


It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Really, Really Do

by wakingup



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe- Suburbs, Ensemble Cast, M/M, Minor Frank Iero/Gerard Way, Minor Patrick Stump/Ray Toro, Minor Victoria Asher/Maja Ivarsson, POV Pete Wentz, Racetraitor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-05 19:06:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 58,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16816624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakingup/pseuds/wakingup
Summary: Pete is trying to not fuck up this time. His friends don't have much faith in him, even though they love him.Mikeyway makes this easier and harder at the same time.





	It's Hard to Say "I Do" When I Really, Really Do

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this like 6 years ago when Andy Hurley tweeted at me about anarchy twice, and then I felt weird because I was like omg none of these dudes are remotely like how fanfic portrays them, and then I got over it cuz who cares. I wrote about the first 5,000 words then, and then last month I started again, and here we are more than 50,000 words later. 
> 
> Be warned, it's full of feelings and quite sappy at times.  
> Also, content warnings for substance usage/addiction things. The most intense is like an alcohol/sleeping pills thing that leads to a hospital scene at one point.  
> Idk if there’s any other things I should add warnings to but lmk if anyone thinks so. 
> 
> Set approximately 1997. I tried not to fuck w time too much except everyone has flip phones srry not srry.  
> Totally AU, in an ambiguous mid-west suburb. 
> 
> I wanted to write a weirdo, anxious, kind of a fuck up but ultimately really sweet Pete. 
> 
> HUGE THANK YOU to Elle who read/beta'd this and gave me confidence <3 
> 
> I really loved writing this, and I loved writing Pete like this, and I hope you enjoy <3

Andy is in the grass talking to the fucking beetles again. Or maybe he is talking to Pete about the beetles. If Pete had time to listen to him, he'd probably hear something along the lines of nature engineering its creatures to work in perfect harmony and shit like that, but he doesn't. He's too busy kicking his soccer ball around, entertaining himself by seeing how long he can keep it in the air. He doesn't have practice today, school let out about fifteen minutes ago, and they're just waiting for Patrick to get his ass out of the band room. They have places to be. Like the pizza parlor. Damn, he's hungry.

"And if you look at the markings on this one—”

"Andy, I don't care!" Pete barks, giving the ball a swift kick in mid-air. He instantly feels like a dick, because Andy doesn't mean to be such a primitivist and honestly Pete thinks it's kind of fucking cool—when he isn't hearing lectures about beetles. He also feels like a dick because his soccer ball soars through the air and smacks some guy on the back so hard it makes Pete cringe. He even drops everything he was carrying.

Oops.

Pete jogs over quickly, grinning sheepishly, hoping that will, like, soften the guy's wrath or something. He doesn't seem very wrathful though. He seems mostly confused and sort of embarrassed.

"Oh, shit, dude, I'm really sorry, I didn't see you there…." Pete mumbles sincerely, bending down to pick up a few things.

"I've heard that one before." The guy throws back in a smooth monotone.

Pete doesn't know what to say. Pete fucking always has something to say.

Instead, he looks at what the guy has dropped. Most of the smaller things have been shoved into his messenger bag, but there's a few comic books and some VHS tapes with fake-looking covers, literally just pieces of paper taped on like they were printed. They're all of the same Disney movie and Pete thinks it's kind of weird. But he also thinks it's kind of cool, because really, what's the difference between weird and cool?

Pete straightens again, passing over the items into the guy’s outstretched hand. "Uh, here?" He tries to smile at the guy again (who is swiftly becoming " The Disney Guy" in his head).

"Thanks. Sort of. All things considered." The Disney Guy shoots back, and Pete thinks he might be smiling a little. Pete also feels like he's being humored. He doesn't get it. Is there even something he should be getting?

"Yeah, man, sorry…my friend was like talking non-stop about beetles and I kind of…" Pete babbles, feeling really awkward.

"Got excited?” The Disney Guy quirks back at him.

"What? No! I mean, beetles are cool, just….I got a little over-enthused in my attempts to change the conversation." He nods, thinking that this is a satisfactory explanation to give Disney Guy. He decided to drop the “The”, it sounds too formal.

Disney Guy actually nods. "That's a cool shirt." He says, and Pete is strangely pleased that he hasn’t left at his soonest opportunity.

Pete beams, because it is a fucking cool shirt. It's a zombie robot cat thing that Joe made with like puffy neon paints when he was high as fuck.

"Thanks. My friend made it—not the beetle guy friend, like, another one." Pete explains, feeling so not smooth right now.

Disney guy nods. "Well, my brother is waiting for me. Control your balls better next time." He walks past Pete without so much as a wave.

What?

Pete laughs a laugh that catches him by surprise, and just in time shouts after Disney Guy. "Hey! What's your name?"

Disney Guy doesn't stop walking, just walks backwards for a beat. "Mikey."

"I'm Pete."

"Cool." Pete beams some more. He stands there like an idiot until Mikey gets into a beat-up black car and pulls away.

Very cool.

Pete wanders back over to Andy and his fucking beetles to find that Patrick has joined them now, and is hearing all about the merits of the potato beetle.

"Did you guys see that guy I was just talking to?" Pete asks, glancing back over his shoulder even though Mikey’s long gone.

Patrick looks happy to see him and stands quickly, a ladybug perched on his finger. "Uh, what?" His warm eyes are wide, and he keeps glancing nervously at the ladybug. It’s adorable.

"That guy! Disney guy. Mikey. He had comics, he liked my shirt, I hit him with a soccer ball."

"In that order?" Patrick asks, squinting slightly into the distance, maybe checking if Mikey is still around.

"No! Not important. Anyway...he was…weird. And like confident in that totally not trying at all, I'm actually kind of awkward but I totally know it, kind of way, you know?"

"Not really." Andy is sitting back on his heels now, shrugging up at them.

"Fine, well…he was really cute, you guys." Pete feels kind of weirdly bashful about it.

"Oh no." Patrick blinks.

"What?"

"Your crushes. Always bad."

"Not always! What! Patrick, you wound me." Pete clutches his chest to illustrate.

"Cannot discuss this before pizza. Let’s go" Patrick emits a sigh of long-suffering and just starts walking towards the street.  
___

They're still debating Pete's crush history fifteen minutes later when they reach the pizza parlor. It's the only one they go to, since it's the only place with vegan pizza, for Andy. Pete likes it anyway, so he never complains.

After they order and slide into a booth, Patrick pulls out the big guns. "Remember the first time you met Gabe at that party and he blew you and you told us you could feel his soul? In his throat? With your dick?"

Andy's face just looks pained.

Pete swears he isn't fucking mortified at that memory. Really, he isn't. "Whatever. Gabe and I are totally tight now!"

"And the time you saw Maja sing right after she moved here and you followed her around for three weeks after? She gave you a black eye, dude."

Pete is starting to get grumpy. Patrick is always trying to ruin his fun. Why, oh why, does his best friend hate him so much?

"That was an accident! Also, she was trying to get into Vicky's pants and I didn’t know I was sabotaging her. She didn't actually hate me or anything!" Pete crosses his arms and sits back in the booth.

"Pete. Point is, you have a tendency to overwhelm people before they can even get to know you." Patrick says.

Pete shifts uncomfortably. That actually kind of hurt and he doesn't know what to do about that.

Andy is looking back and forth between them with slightly wide eyes, as if he doesn’t know how he got there. Pete knows he's about to spout out some more shit about beetles to break this weird tension, so Pete shrugs and spares him the trouble.

"So what do I do?" Pete humpfs and uncrosses his arms. Stupid Patrick. He knows Pete too well.

"I mean, I'm not going to tell you what to do. Just. Maybe don't confess your undying love before you hang out." Patricks shrugs, as if he totally wasn't trying to tell Pete what to do.

"Whatever, I've never done that!"

Both Patrick and Andy just stare.

"Okay, I did it once, but I was like, fourteen!"

More staring.

"Oh, whatever, maybe I did it twice. I get it, okay, I fucking get it?" Pete crosses his arms yet again.

Fucking know-it-all friends.

Finally their pizza comes and it seems like the topic is dropped, until Patrick pats him on the back.

"You're great, Pete. Just give him a chance to see you, okay?"  
___

The next time Pete sees Mikey, it’s a few days later and he's waiting for the last gym class of the day to finish up, since he has soccer practice after school. Theoretically, he's supposed to be in Chemistry right now, but they were doing a lab and he actually finished early, so he patted himself on the back and left a good fifteen minutes early. He's a fucking awesome student.

Mikey is running. It's kind of weird, the way he runs. They're just passing soccer balls back and forth between partners. It's pretty boring and most of them are pretty bad, but Pete can't be fucked to notice, because he can't stop watching Mikey run. He has no ass, he's kind of pigeon-toed, and he sticks his chest out, shoulders back, every time he runs up to kick the ball. Pete is weirdly, incredibly turned on by this. It's fucking adorable, the way Mikey pushes his glasses up every few minutes, and he's sweating slightly. He's also in jeans for some reason even though they aren't supposed to wear jeans in gym class, but whatever.

Pete is pretty sure he's staring quite openly. Well, from where the class is taking place, it probably just looks like he's watching like a normal person. But his knuckles are turning white from gripping the railing, and his breathing is kind of fast. He just keeps thinking about pushing Mikey up against the wall under the bleachers, how his chest would arch up just like that, as Pete licked the sweat off of his neck. Fuck. Yeah.

He kind of just wants to go jerk off to that image. Like. Now. But he's at school and where the fuck would he go (okay, honestly, he's done it before, but…still.) and he has practice really soon. Most importantly, if he's lucky he can talk to Mikey as soon as class is over. He needs to talk to this guy.

Luckily it's only another five minutes before the class is filing down the aisle between the bleachers. Pete hovers at the edge, nodding to a few people he knows, but really just waiting for Mikey, who seems to be trailing behind because he somehow got stuck carrying the balls. Pete doesn't peg him for the offering to help in gym class type. The teacher probably hates him, since it seems like Mikey can't be fucked about anything. It's awesome. Or, maybe Mikey saw Pete lingering and wanted him all to himself. That totally must be it.

Mikey is literally the last person coming down the aisle, and Pete can't help a "Hey, Mikeyway!" when he's a few feet away. Mikey nearly jumps out of his skin, and a few soccer balls come tumbling out of the bag. Pete tries not to laugh, but he makes an amused sound and Mikey glares at him. Well, there goes his theory that Mikey saw him, but whatever.

"Uh. Hi." Mikey pushes his glasses up again. He's still glistening with sweat. His Iron Maiden t-shirt is really thin and sticks to his body. Pete tries really hard not to stare, and he only licks his lips maybe a tiny bit. After a beat, Mikey asks, "How do you know my last name?"

"Uh. Gabe." Pete lies, grinning. First, he checked the yearbook from last year, but he couldn’t find Mikey in it. Then, he got Patrick to check the transfer files to try and find Mikey’s last name, since Patrick is an office aide. Gabe’s last name is close enough to Mikey’s that they are in the same homeroom, so he asked Gabe all about Mikey. He's basically a fucking detective. Mikey doesn't need to know all of his secrets yet.

"So, stuck on ball duty?" Pete adds after Mikey just stands there. He wonders if every conversation with Mikey will be some thinly-veiled and too obvious to even be fun conversation about balls. He can't even say suggestive shit because that's just too fucking easy. His metaphors deserve a little more than that.

Mikey nods. "Coach Wilson fuckin' hates me. I convinced him that I had asthma at the beginning of the year, and, well…I don't. He found out." Mikey is smirking slightly. Pete laughs, a little too loudly. But Mikey hasn't made a move to continue on inside, so he's gonna take what he can get.

"Wow. What a rebel." Pete smirks back. "You can just leave those here, though, I'd have to get them out for practice anyway."

"Cool." Mikey happily lets go of the bag, taking a step back from it like he doesn't even want to be near it, and folds his arms. He doesn't walk away yet, and Pete thinks this is significant. "So, soccer?"

"Yep. You've got me figured out." Pete almost winks, but he isn't sure if he should go for overt flattery or try being a bit more subtle. He really can't get a read on this guy and it makes him nervous. "What about you?"

"What?" Mikey seems confused.

"What do you do?"

Pete waits, noticing that Mikey seems caught off guard. Interesting. All that snark and now maybe he's scratching the surface. Faster than he expected, honestly.

"I don't do anything." Mikey shrugs, like it isn't a big deal. Pete half wants to laugh and half wants to sit Mikey down and force him to spill his secrets. Why would you say that? What do you really do? What are you thinking right now?

That probably wouldn't go over very well. Yet.

"I'm really boring. And I have to go." Mikey smirks again, any uncertainty from before gone. He gives Pete a weird little wave before navigating around the ball bag and practically fucking sauntering away before Pete really knows what to say.

"Wait! Mikeyway!"

Just like before, Mikey turns around and walks backwards without stopping, leaving Pete scrambling.

"Can I have your number?" Pete had planned on doing this less obviously.

Mikey stops then, and stares. Fucking smooth, Pete. He goes for a sheepish smile.

"I may need comic book advice this weekend. Or something." Oh yeah, very smooth.

Pete slips a sharpie out of his pocket and is fumbling around for a piece of paper when suddenly Mikey is _right there_ and Pete freezes just to look up at him. Mikey plucks the sharpie from his hand, and before Pete can say anything, he turns Pete's arm over and writes a string of numbers on the inside. Pete's heart is in his fucking throat—seriously, what the fuck—and for a moment Mikey just stares at him through his glasses. Pete can't read him at all, but he can feel it viscerally. After a moment, Mikey tilts his head, like he’s a little confused, but he doesn’t say anything. He slips Pete's sharpie back into the front pocket of his jeans for him, and lets go of Pete's arm. He quirks the tiniest smile, and before Pete can even breathe enough to think, he turns and leaves.

"Holy shit." Pete mumbles after what feels like several long minutes. He takes a few steady breaths, and can't help the giant grin that spreads as he looks at his arm.  
___

Pete is seriously brilliant, and actually puts Mikey's number in his phone before practice, just in case it gets all fucked up from the sweat and brushing up against other guys or whatever.

But he's fallen into this endless cycle of possibilities and he can't pick any of them so he hasn't sent anything to Mikey and all he has done is agonize over it. Out loud and on a Friday night.

"What if I just said….'hey, want to hang out?' " Pete mumbles, staring at his phone. "That makes me sound really boring, doesn't it?"

"How about ‘oh my good god Mikeyway I don't even know you but your face is the only light in my nightmares?’ " Everyone erupts into giggles, except for Pete. He throws a glare Travis' way.

"Dude! You would totally say that!" Andy chimes, fucking clutching his side. Traitor.

"I would not!" Pete protests. He actually probably would, and secretly he's committing that one to memory. Damn, only light in my nightmares…

Patrick rolls his eyes and tries to pass Pete the joint. He shakes his head, and they don't even bother with Andy who has been straight edge since the beginning of fucking precious primitive time, but Joe gladly plucks it from Patrick's fingers.

"Seriously guys. I could be hanging out with Mikeyway right now or at least talking to him and here I am in this basement on a Friday night getting high with you losers and watching Travis obliterate you all at MarioKart." Pete is grumpy. His friends know he loves them. "What the hell do I say!?" He slumps back in the chair, feeling defeated.

"Travis is not obliterating us, I have a plan!" Andy says for the tenth time.

"What if I'm too straight forward and he thinks I'm a creep?"

"You are kind of a creep." Patrick points out helpfully, patting Pete on the head fondly.

Pete pouts. His friends suck. "Fine. But Mikeyway doesn't have to know that. Yet."

For a second there's just the woeful sounds of everyone getting struck by lightning. As everyone else dissolves into hitting Travis repeatedly with pillows, Pete sums up some fucking resolve. Fuck it. He likes being straight forward. Mikeyway is just kind of fucking with his head, and he hasn't even done anything yet.

He flips open his phone for the sixteen thousandth time and types "hey its pete. so i wanna buy one of yr disney movies but only if y'll watch it with me". He resists tacking on a smiley face.

Pete feels like he's going to hyperventilate. He tosses his phone down on the cushion next to him and folds his hands in his lap. Calmly. He is the picture of calm.

After just a few minutes, in which MarioKart resumes for real, Patrick looks over at him. He smiles slowly. "You did it, huh?"

Pete nods. He sips at a soda. Swallowing feels oddly difficult.

"Well, what did you say?" Patrick rolls his eyes. "Leave it to you to agonize over this for hours and then not even fucking tell us what you finally text him."

Pete grins sheepishly. He hands over his phone, biting his lip. "Is it the worst?" He asks, afraid of the answer.

Patrick reads it quickly, and then passes it to Joe so it can make the rounds. It's another minute before they've all read it. They've even paused MarioKart. Yeah, his friends totally love him.

They're all nodding. It's unreal. Pete even rubs one of his eyes to check if he's seeing things. "The fuck? Stop nodding, you're like going to pull out a rusty knife at any second and tell me it's time for me to ascend."

Staring. "What!?" Pete demands as he snatches his phone back from Travis and puts it in his hoodie pocket. He crosses his arms moodily.

"What the hell?" Joe mumbles, reaching over to grab a bag of chips. At least they aren't nodding anymore.

"Whatever, anyway…well?" Pete hates them all.

"Yeah man. I mean, pretty good. Like, obvious enough that if he says no it's a pretty straight up rejection, so at least you won't have to worry about it anymore." Travis says sagely. He takes one last inhale and kills the joint.

"Thanks. I feel so much better now. You all suck." Pete sinks further into his cushy chair. The fuckers just laugh and unpause MarioKart. Assholes.

It's another agonizing forty-six minutes before his phone finally buzzes again. Pete drops it in his haste to get it out and curses quietly to himself. What the hell, he seriously needs to calm down.

_how do you know I sell?_

Is all it says. Pete smirks a little despite himself. "i have sources" He types back. (see: Gabe). Then adds, "so what do you say mikeyway?"

_fifty bucks_

"thats a little steep mikeyway. not that yr presence can be quantified for less"

_i was kidding._

Pete isn't sure if this is a dismissal.

_and wow, so dramatic._

"none of these are answers mikeyway"

He should probably stop typing _mikeyway_ like that. Whatever, he likes it.

_better idea. night of the living dead is playing for first night of horrorfest tomorrow_

Pete's eyes go wide. "I think mikeyway just asked me to horrorfest tomorrow night." Pete says. Definitely with a hint of awe.

"Woo! Great job, man." Travis claps his shoulder distractedly. Only Patrick actually pays attention, but that's totally fine with him.

"What's horrorfest?" Pete asks a beat later.

Patrick rolls his eyes, but is actually helpful. "I think it's something at the dollar theater that's like every year for all of October? Yay blood and guts, type of thing. They play a movie every Saturday."

"Cool."

"Pete, you hate gore." Patrick points out.

"Whatever! For Mikeyway, I can do anything." Pete grins goofily. He feels like he could float through the ceiling. "And if it's that bad we can just make out and I'll ignore all the gross stuff and paranoia-inducing serial killers!"

Patrick pats his knee. "Whatever you say Pete."

"so it's a date? what time?" Pete types back quickly to Mikey, his heart still stuttering in his chest even though this is totally going well.

_seven. only if you buy me something._

Pete's grin is threatening to take over his whole face. This could be bad. But it could also be really, really fucking good.  
___

"Patrick! It's six o'clock! Am I actually supposed to get him something? What if I do and then he gets freaked out? What if I don't and then he's offended and then it's not actually a date? What if my hair is stupid? What if I don't understand anything he says and then I look stupid? What if--"

"Pete! Shut up for a second."

Pete opens and closes his mouth at least three times, fighting to do as Patrick says.

"Wow. That was actually impressive." Patrick sounds surprised.

"See, I'm not such a lost cause."

"I know, Petey. I promise I have faith in you." Pete feels better after that statement.

"Anyway, dude, just calm down. What you really have to focus on is just, like, don't run screaming from the theater. You haven't seen Night of the Living Dead, probably for the better, because it's fucking awesome but also is not going to sit well with you. At all." Pete is not sure why Patrick keeps returning to this point, when there are more important things to deal with.

"But Patrickkkkk" Pete whines, frowning. "Should I get him something?"

"I'm pretty sure he was joking…but who the hell knows. Buy him popcorn or something."

"Okay. If he dumps me I'm blaming you."

"Good luck, Pete. It'll be great! Just fucking breathe, okay?" Patrick sounds unsure, but Pete ignores it.

"Okay. Okay." Pete hangs up, and tries to breathe. He really tries.

After messing with his hair for another ten minutes, half-heartedly downing a sandwich and some orange juice, and doing push-ups in his room just for something to do, Pete pulls on a hoodie and leaves his house. It's only a ten minute walk to the dollar theater, and his brother Andrew has the car anyway, so he just walks.

He feels….he doesn't know. He's nervous, yeah, but not totally freaking out. He's also kind of stoked. It's a good feeling. He just hopes he doesn't do something weird, like puke in the middle of the movie. Or accidentally spout poetry at Mikey (although, contrary to popular belief, he hasn't ever really done this on accident).

Patrick is right, he's not good with horror, but seriously, he should be fine.

He bounces up to the theater at six fifty, cause it's not cool to show up right when the movie is starting. But the box office informs him that the movie actually starts at seven fifteen. Makes sense. Mikey isn't even here yet, and it's kind of stuffy inside and smells like stale popcorn, so he waits outside. He isn't good at standing still, like, ever, so he kicks rocks at a telephone pole.

Suddenly, a shitty black car pulls into the parking lot just as Pete kicks a rock pretty good, and of course it pings off the side. Oh shit. He also sees Mikey in the passenger's seat. Great.

Pete sheepishly hops back onto the curb and tucks his hands into his back pockets, trying to look innocent.

Mikey steps out of the car and calls "Do you have some kind of kicking compulsion? At me?"

Pete laughs a little at that, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sorry! Fuck. Yeah, sorry dude! If it helps I can't even see a mark?" He's looking at the driver now. He hadn't been expecting other people to be there, too, but then again it made sense that Mikey wasn't planning on coming to this alone. And that didn't make it not a date.

It's the same black car from the other day, so he's gonna guess that the driver is Mikey's brother. They kind of look alike, if you look at their faces. But this guy is shorter and stands a little hunched, and has shaggy black hair. His clothes are baggy whereas Mikey's, he notices today, especially, are pretty tight. Pete is just taking a moment to appreciate Morrissey stretched across Mikey's chest (and what is with him and Mikey's chest), when someone else bolts out of the car, slams the door, and jumps bodily on the brother's back.

"THEY'RE COMING TO GET YOU, BARBARA!" The guy cries with a cackle, wrapping his arms around the brother's neck and blows raspberries against his neck. "ACK! Frank, fuck! Get off!" But the brother is totally giggling like mad. Pete is just staring, a smile tugging at his lips. Cute.

Aside from that distraction going on in the background, he notices Mikey is now standing right in front of him.

Pete can't help but smile up at him. Mikey's expression is unreadable but definitely not unpleasant and Pete feels a little thrill spark through his stomach. "Hi, Mikeyway."

"Hey." Mikey gives him even the tiniest smile then. Pete thinks he might as well be beaming, it makes him feel so happy. Fuck.

Mikey tilts his head in reference to the other two guys. "That's Gerard, my brother. Frank's the parasite."

"Hey!" The others yell simultaneously, and then look at each other and giggle together again. Mikey just rolls his eyes.

"This is Pete." He says to them in the same expressionless tone.

"Obviously." Frank snorts, grabbing Gerard's hand and hauling him towards the theater. Gerard is kind of openly looking him over and Pete does his best to play it cool. He could totally take Gerard in a fight, but dude also looks like he might have, like, dark magic up his sleeve.

Pete looks back at Mikey to see that there's a pink tint in his cheeks now. "Sweet." He murmurs. Then, instead of slapping himself in the face for saying that out loud, he says, probably too loudly, "Uh, shall we—go?”

Mikey nods, his arms folded across his chest. Pete is jealous of Frank and Gerard's hand-holding, but just grins and walks with Mikey into the theater. "Aren't we going to get tickets?" He asks after noticing that they bypassed the ticket booth.

"Nah. Already got them. Here you go." Mikey pulls two tickets out of his (tight against his ass) back pocket and hands one to Pete.

"It's not a date if I don't buy you something, remember?" Pete can't help himself. This is a date, right? Right? Pete bites the inside of his cheek instead of asking. Remember, seem chill. Not crazy. Just the right amount of flirty.

Mikey gives him a funny look. Like he doesn't get it and Pete doesn't understand what there is to get. Then he rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Gerard told me it was classist to demand gifts in order for it to be a date." He tells Pete.

Pete's own laugh catches him by surprise. He's been told he sounds like a braying donkey or an asshole hyena, and he quickly muffles the sound before Mikey can formulate a similar opinion.

"Okay. Well, I'm buying you popcorn anyway. Unless you want something else?" Pete asks, taking the first steps towards the concession stand.

Mikey shakes his head, and then nods it. His glasses flop around a bit. It's so endearing Pete is beaming at him. Before he can shove his foot back in his mouth, he goes off to get them popcorn.

When he gets back to the other three, a huge tub of popcorn and one giant coke in hand, they're just waiting outside of theater number three for him. Apparently they're discussing which parts they are most excited to see, and Frank has delved into a vaguely detailed reenactment. Mikey glances at him and dips his hand into the popcorn as acknowledgment.

"And then all of the sudden it's like WAHHHHH and everyone is just like OH SHIT,” Frank explains, flopping around.

"Yeah man! That part is sooo fucking good!" Gerard agrees, his eyes a bit wide as he nods enthusiastically.

To Pete it sounds pretty unspecific, but who is he to judge.

"What about you, Pete? What's your favorite part?" Frank asks now that he has regained composure, and has also stolen some popcorn. Pete knew this was going to happen and is glad he went for the tub.

"I haven't actually…seen it." Pete gives a grin like "silly me" but he actually feels kind of awkward since they're so stoked on it. He's right to feel awkward, because they all just stare at him silently for what feels like five fucking minutes.

"Oh man. You will never forget this day." Frank proclaims, pointing at Pete briefly, his face so sincere. "Never." Like Pete didn't get it the first time.

Gerard's eyes have narrowed, like he really doesn't trust Pete. He doesn't really have any reason to, but Pete still thinks this is kind of unfair. Then again, Mikey could have a big brother threatening to beat him up if he soils Mikey's honor or whatever, so the narrowed eyes really aren’t that bad.

Mikey just clears his throat and motions to the theater. "Well, let's get to it."

"Yes!" Frank exclaims and bolts into the theater. Gerard fucking giggles again and follows at a slower pace, although no less eagerly.

Mikey just looks at him for a second before he pops more popcorn into his mouth and follows the others. Pete takes a deep breath and goes too.  
___

It's only after about forty-five minutes that he realizes that a) Patrick Stump is a fucking _brilliant_ human being who knows him better than he knows himself b) he's an idiot and c) horror just does not work for him. It's not that he doesn't like it, more like he can barely handle it.

He has tried to explain this to people before, but he is pretty sure they don't get it. The last time he watched anything scarier and bloodier than Buffy, he was a wreck for several days. It was like he saw blood everywhere. Every time someone fell he saw them cracking their skulls against some sharp object. He couldn't watch his mom cook at all because he saw her hurting herself every thirty seconds. He actually yelled out loud when his brother had thrown a book at his sister because the sharp edge could have impaled her eye. It was bad. Not to mention a total lack of sleep. That was about four years ago. He thought he might have grown out of it, which he thinks he has a bit, but not nearly enough.

He hopes this movie isn't like three hours long or he will seriously have to leave and that will be so fucking awkward and why, why is this happening to him. He's trying so hard not to project "total freak” but he doesn't know if it's working. After his original epiphany of "omg i actually can't do this" he sat there with his eyes closed for at least seven minutes, trying not to cry at the sounds he could still hear. He then went to the bathroom and dawdled a while. Then he closed his eyes again. He pretended to fall asleep. Luckily, Frank and Gerard weren't paying attention at all. Mikey was totally noticing, but Pete intentionally didn't make eye contact and as soon as he thought Mikey might say something, he got up and went to the bathroom again.

He's in the bathroom for about five minutes, frantically texting Patrick, before his phone just starts ringing.

"Patrick. Fuck. I'm such an idiot!"

"Yeah, Pete, we know. That bad?"

"I mean, I've definitely seen worse, but….fuck, man. _My skin._ I can, like, feel it." Pete shudders.

"Yeah okay I really have no idea what that means. But, uh, that sucks? Wait, what's going on with Mikey?"

"I don't know! I'm acting like a total freak and now I'm hiding in the bathroom and he's going to think….so many things he could think! That I hate him! That I'm jerking off in here! Or an addict of some kind, like, something HARD! And his brother was already looking at me weird and now I'm just—”

The door opens then, and of course Mikeyway slides inside.

"Shit, Trick, gotta go!"

"Wait, Pete--" But it's too late, Pete snaps his phone shut and pockets it. He rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans and tries to give Mikey a smile. He feels kind of sick to his stomach though so it doesn't go very well.

Mikey's arms are folded, sort of stern-like, but his face is soft—concerned, even. But suspicious all at once, like he just doesn't know what to fucking make of Pete. It’s a lot of expression for Mikey. Pete doesn't blame him. He swears sometimes he manages to be smooth. Honest.

"Um. What's going on?" Behind his glasses, Mikey's eyebrow raises minutely.

Pete laughs awkwardly, too loud and kind of sharp. He pushes a hand through his hair, and just decides, oh, fuck it. "So, uh. I'm really fucking bad with horror and gore of like, any type. When you combine them, I'm kind of…a wreck?" Points for honesty, maybe? Maybe it will allow Mikey to overlook the fact that he's a total freak. And that he's shaking a bit.

He just wants to curl up and not look at anyone for a week. Pete's staring at the floor now cause Mikey's staring is kind of freaking him out more.

But then he uncrosses his arm and walks over to where Pete's leaning against the opposite wall. He leans sideways against the wall, his hands moving forward a few inches before dropping back to his sides, like he doesn't know what to do with them but maybe wants to touch Pete. Pete isn't sure if that would pull him back from the edge or shove him off. He is starting to feel better at least, being in the quiet bathroom.

"Jesus, Pete. That was really fucking you up." Mikey breathes. It's the most expressive and unguarded he's heard Mikey's voice yet. It relaxes him a bit.

Pete laughs shakily and wraps his arms around himself. "Yeah. I'm a freak."

Mikey's face is scrunched up again in what Pete thinks is confusion, but again Mikey's a hard one to read. He could be pissed off and it might look the same way. He doesn't seem it, though.

"Why didn't you just say something?" Mikey finally asks, and Pete wants to kick himself, because yeah, fuck, he could have avoided this situation so easily.

"I kind of…forgot? That it's like this?" He hates how hesitant his voice sounds. He clears his throat and tries again. "It's been a while since I've tried watching a movie like that. I just kind of avoid them." He stops before he just pours out his weird fucked-up-for-no-good-reason life stories to Mikey. Too soon, seriously. Mikey doesn't need to hear that shit.

"I'm sorry, you were really stoked to see that, and, well…here you are." Pete gestures to the bathroom around them, smiling weakly. This is so weird. He shouldn't be allowed on dates anymore, ever.

Mikey actually rolls his eyes then. "Whatever, I've actually seen it more times than would seem humanly possible." He gives Pete a small smile and Pete feels it under his skin.

"You're an awesome man, Mikeyway." Pete tells him seriously.

Pete is pushing all the panic and the images and the fucking paranoia and whispers down in a fucking box at the back of his mind to deal with later. He can still feel it, but it's not as immediate now. It comes in waves. No way in hell is he sleeping tonight, he knows that, but maybe he can sort of rescue this so far pretty pathetic date. Pathetic because he's a freak and Mikeyway is too awesome.

"I can wait, if you want to go watch the rest." Pete offers, even though he has a feeling Mikey wouldn't do that. It's confirmed pretty quickly when Mikey just sort of glares at him. Pete feels his smile strengthen a notch.

"Or, we can go to the diner two blocks down?" He tries next, pleased when Mikey nods. He then, because Pete is actually a lucky bastard, grabs Pete's hand and pulls him from the bathroom.  
___

They're still holding hands when they reach the diner, and in that time Mikey has managed to text Gerard and Frank one-handedly. Talented hands. Pete swears he doesn't let his mind wander.

They haven't talked much but it hasn't been weird, even though Pete is hyper-aware of how sweaty his hand is and all that shit.

"You okay?" Mikey asks as they approach the diner.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Pete lies, but it's not that big of a lie and really, he'll deal with it later.

Mikey just squeezes his hand, and then lets go as he pushes the door of the diner open.

A little while later, some of the tension in his body has faded, and Pete is doing his best to ignore how twitchy his jaw feels. Later. He can be horrified about the frailty of the human blood sacks they carry around later.

Mostly they have spent the last twenty minutes comparing and contrasting diner foods, which has lead them to a pretty important debate, which Pete would title: Are these pancakes good or does Mikeyway just have low standards for his mouth? But would never tell him, of course. Or maybe he’ll tell him later. He’s undecided.

“Listen, I’m just saying, any carb that is a vehicle for sweetness has my vote, okay?” Mikey asserts, holding his hands up as if he is just trying to be reasonable.

Pete is slowly consuming his strawberry milkshake and Mikey polished his chocolate one off in about five minutes. He’s now working on a big-ass plate of fries that’s between them. “Okay, fine. You’re entitled to your wrong opinion. I’m just saying, savory breakfast foods are where it’s at. Like, sure, having one pancake on the side is good, but having only pancakes? Boring, man.” Pete nods, tapping his fingernails lightly on the cold glass of his milkshake. He can’t help but smirk at Mikey as Mikey’s eyes go wide.

“That’s just sad.” Mikey mumbles, shaking his head slowly. Suddenly, his phone starts ringing. Pete takes this opportunity to look at his own phone, cuz he doesn’t want to seem like he is eavesdropping. Even though he totally is since Mikey is sitting right there.

“Mm. Mmhmm. Yeah.” Sadly, Pete isn’t getting any great insight from whatever this conversation is. Except maybe that Mikey doesn’t love talking on the phone. He types a quick text to Patrick “dude mikeyway totally loves me he held my hand” and he doesn’t even care that he sounds like a huge dork.

“Sure. Okay. Bye.” Mikey hangs up the phone and grabs a fry. “The movie is over, but Gerard and Frank are gonna get some food.” Pete nods. He isn’t sure what to do with this information.

“Cool, um…so, what do we do?” Pete asks, glancing up at Mikey. Mikey doesn’t make a lot of eye contact, so when he does, Pete feels like he’s under a spotlight. Mikey just shrugs, looking at him. Oh, god, Pete doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. Okay, quick inventory—what does he want? He wants to keep hanging out with Mikey. But he is scared they will run out of things to talk about and then he will get nervous and say stupid shit or be too intense and then Mikey will never talk to him again. Should he make up an excuse to leave? No, what, that’s such a stupid idea. Way to seem like a jackass. They could just stay in the diner, but Pete is getting restless, and it’s been quiet for too long now, and he can’t take it, oh god what is he gonna do—

Mikey pulls him out of his anxiety spiral by speaking first. “Uh, wanna go to the park across the street?” He’s kind of eyeing Pete strangely, and Pete wonders how obvious his unnecessary freak out was. He had probably started twitching or something with his luck.“YES!” Pete blurts out, so relieved that Mikey has saved him from himself. Fuck, he needs to get a grip. Mikey only widens his eyes slightly at Pete’s sudden enthusiasm for parks, then shrugs and starts to finish off the fries more quickly.

Pete focuses intently on finishing his milkshake and trying not to continue his annoying internal monologue. They split the bill and hit the street again. It’s dark out but the street lights are on, and it never gets too dark in this neighborhood with all the light pollution. They head for the playground without discussing it, as there isn’t much else in the park. It’s too late for there to be kids around, so it’s totally empty.

Pete is starting to feel exhausted. It’s been a rollercoaster, this date, and he still knows so little about Mikey, so he has no idea how he is taking all of this. Joking to Patrick aside, Pete’s nervous. Sometimes dealing with the combination of himself and other people, especially ones he doesn’t know very well, is tiring.

He thinks about how comfortable Gerard and Frank seem around each other. He’s jealous of that. Pete feels like he’s always sifting through a dozen different reactions. “How long has that been going on, by the way?” He asks suddenly, forgetting Mikey isn’t in his brain.

“Huh?” Mikey seems to have been lost in his own thoughts.

“Sorry, I mean, Frank and Gerard. It’s cute.” He smiles a bit, but is confused when Mikey rolls his eyes and groans. It’s actually a little too dark to see Mikey rolling his eyes, but he can hear it in the groan, and he has catalogued that it’s one of Mikey’s main reactions to things. Not creepy cataloguing, though…probably.

“They’re not actually together.”

Pete is floored. “What—how?” Is all he can manage.

“I know, I know. They’ve been best friends for, like, the last four years, even though Frank was my friend first, and they are obsessed with each other, but they’re also fucking repressed.” The frustration is evident in Mikey’s voice. He reminds Pete a little bit of Patrick when he talks about Pete.

“Whoa. That’s crazy.”

“Don’t get me wrong, they are totally together, and they will figure that out eventually. But for now you can’t mention it to them or some stupid delicate balance will be upset.” Mikey shrugs all what can you do? Pete kind of gets it. Relationships are terrifying. Being secretly obsessed with each other is so much easier.

Pete reaches over and pulls on Mikey’s hand and points to the swings, pleased when Mikey nods in agreement. Once they’ve settled in swings side-by-side and are both swinging gently, Pete turns to Mikey. He can see him better, there’s more light here at the playground, and his eyes have adjusted. “Hey, uh, thanks.” Pete mumbles, giving Mikey a small, sincere smile. Now that he’s looking at him, he can’t look away. Mikey looks amazing in this light.

“For what?” Mikey tilts his head a little. He’s slouched over in the swing, so even though he’s taller than Pete their heads are at about the same height.

“Uh, everything? Inviting me? Not ditching me even though I’m a freak?” Pete lets out a shake-y laugh, but he means it.

“Sure. No problem.” Mikey says. He shifts uncomfortably.

“You okay?” He asks. It’s the least Pete can do, given how nice Mikey has been to him.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. You’re, just, uh…looking at me a lot.” Oops. Pete totally has been staring at Mikey this whole time. He kinda forgot that he does that someti—okay, often.

“Oh, oops.” Pete blushes but doesn’t look away. He knows they’re approaching the end of the night, and there’s always that awkward what now? and he doesn’t really have an answer.

Mikey knows it, too. “Gerard and Frank will probably be done soon, I should go back and meet them.” Pete nods. He doesn’t know what to do.

Pete just looks at Mikey, probably looking like a wounded puppy. He’s staring still, but he doesn’t care.

Mikey smirks. “You gonna kiss me, Petewentz?” Pete flushes. God, he wants to. His heart starts beating rapidly, but he shakes his head. It’s too overwhelming. He can’t.

“Okay…why?” Mikey is looking at him with suspicion again, his eyes narrowed. At least he doesn’t look automatically offended.

_Because if you ignore me tomorrow, I'll probably do something I regret trying to figure out why._

Pete thinks to himself somewhat miserably. At the very least he will write scathing poetry that he will make sure Mikey sees. And if Mikey fails to react to that he will probably then feel even worse. And this is their first and maybe only date, and Pete can’t do that to himself yet again. He promised Patrick. But more importantly, he promised himself. Maybe if he liked Mikey less, if he cared less about seeing him again, he could do it. So, this is a healthy decision, right? Oh god, Mikey is gonna think he’s rejecting him. He hasn’t said anything. He also can’t tell Mikey all of this, it’s too much. He has to say something.

“I…can’t?” He says it more like a question than an answer. Pete feels so stupid. “I really want to see you again, though.” He offers quietly. Hopefully it’s enough. Mikey doesn’t say anything for a bit. Now Pete feels like he’s the one under a microscope. Mikey is staring at him, eyes wandering over him slowly like he’s trying to figure him out, as if Pete isn’t an open fucking book.

“Okay, I guess, text me, or something.” Pete hears Mikey’s phone vibrate. Mikey doesn’t get it out, but he says, “I, uh, gotta go.” Pete nods, feeling crestfallen. It could have gone worse, but maybe it could have gone better. He should have just kissed Mikey, god knows he wants to.

They both stand and look awkwardly at each other for a moment. Pete reaches his hand out, takes Mikey’s, and shakes it. He knows it’s weird, but if he can’t kiss Mikey, they can end on something else. He manages a small smile and steals another look at Mikey. “See you later, mikeyway.” Mikey just nods. He’s more closed off than he was before, and he’s barely looking at Pete, but Pete can’t really blame him, he’s totally fucking weird.

They part, and Pete tries not to kick himself on the way home.  
___

Pete doesn’t sleep that night. Every time he closes his eyes he gets filled with horrific images. It’s so bad that by 3am his eyes are wet and he’s shaking under a blanket. He gives up even trying, and instead listens to music through his headphones, tapping his chest with his hands just for something to do. His house is totally silent, and he gets lost in his own world for a while. It’s better, for now.

As dawn hits, Pete gets out of bed and gets dressed to go for a run, pulling on a loose, thin sweatshirt and track pants. He sticks a ten dollar bill in his shoe, just in case he needs it. He learned the hard way when he saw the ice cream truck one time on a blazing hot day and had zero money on him.

The morning air is cold, and Pete shivers as it hits him. He takes deep lungfuls, and feels more calm than he has in hours.

He runs familiar paths through the streets, passing the movie theater, the big park with the bear statue, the pizza parlor. He runs for about 45 minutes through the nearly-empty suburban streets until he turns and runs along the train tracks. The ground is flatter here. He starts to run faster and faster. His lungs burn in the cold air. He pushes it harder, his breathing ragged, heart beating wildly. He runs and run, pushing all of his frustration out through his body.

He has more than his body can handle though, and before he feels totally better he has to stop, doubling over and falling sideways in the dewy grass. He pulls the neck of his sweatshirt up over his head so he can hide, taking choked breaths rapidly. He’s so tired of feeling like he’s on the verge of an unexplained implosion. He probably looks like a mess, but there’s no one around to see.

Eventually, he pulls himself to a sitting position. He brings his knees to his chest and starts to place rows of rocks on the metal strip of the train tracks. He places them in a line one by one, head resting on his knees. When he’s covered all of the tracks that he can reach, he feels a little calmer. Deep breaths. It’s time to get coffee.  
___

His favorite coffee shop is about a half hour walk, but it’s in the direct of his house, and he feels wrung out from the run, so he takes his time.

He likes this place best because it’s small and cozy, and they let people write on the walls. There’s also a pair of gay dudes, James and Ricardo, who are almost his grandpa’s age and who dress the same, and they are there almost every morning. Pete is a little bit obsessed with them, and believes that they are one of few examples of lasting love between freaks. It’s good to have examples to look up to.

Eventually, he starts thinking about Mikey—specifically, the way Mikey looked when they were sitting on the swings. The mischievous look in Mikey’s eye when he asked if Pete was going to kiss him. If Pete could just forget everything that happened before and after that, and just freeze that moment, he’d be okay with that. Also, if he could not imagine zombies ripping Mikey apart, that would be great, too. His brain is such a bastard.

After he has been sitting there for half an hour, feeling like a zombie himself, but one that just had caffeine injected straight into their veins, he’s surprised to see Patrick enter the coffeeshop. He’s always happy to see Patrick. Patrick is basically his better half. But he’s also on edge, because sometimes Pete feels like a foil will only show how hopeless he is.

“Hello, Pete foil.” He mumbles as Patrick approaches.

“Foil?” Patrick asks, raising a brow.

“Yknow, my contrast character.” Pete shrugs.

“I knew you were gonna be weird this morning.” Patrick sighs. “I need coffee first.” He pats Pete on the head before going off to order.

When Patrick returns with his own steaming mug, Pete has to ask, “What are you doing here, Trick? It’s like, not even 8:30 on a Sunday.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep and I tried to call your phone, but there was no answer. So I figured you were running and not just at home. There was an eighty percent chance you’d be here after running. And if you weren’t, I still get coffee, so everyone wins.” Pete feels his heart swell. Patrick knows him so fucking well, he wants to cry again. He rests his head on Patrick’s arm where it’s laying across the table. Patrick strokes his hair, and Pete sniffles a little. He really doesn’t deserve Patrick. “You’re the best, Trick.” He mumbles sincerely.

“So…wanna talk about it?” Patrick prompts, leaning down in his seat so they’re closer. Pete nods, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s watching James and Ricardo share the same newspaper.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Pete says eventually, as if that explains everything.

“Okay? About what?” Patrick asks, and Pete just wishes Patrick could read his mind so that Patrick could explain it back to him. “Everything.” Pete shrugs. “Maybe I’m just tired.”

Patrick nodds. “Yeah, that’s probably true. Did you sleep at all?”

“No.”

“Yeah, that’ll really fuck you up.” Patrick says sympathetically. “How’d it go with Mikey?”

“Ugh. Mikeyway is the best. I’m just a fool.” This is Pete’s party and hell if he isn’t gonna make the theme ‘pity’.

“Okay fine, tell me more.” Patrick is so patient with him. He should be a kindergarten teacher, Pete decides.

“Well, I freaked out at the movie, but Mikey held my hand on the way to the diner, and he has bad breakfast opinions, somehow Gerard and Frank aren’t dating? And at the park he asked if I was gonna kiss him and I said no. It was, like, kind of hot though, until I ruined it. Why did I say no, Patrick?” Pete looks up at him desperately. “Do you know how awkward it is to say no to kissing a dude that is sitting in front of you looking seriously hot and making the move?”

“Not exactly? Anyway, you tell me. Why did you say no?”

“BECAUSE, everyone knows I’m gonna fuck this up. I know it, you know it, Mikey’s brother and his not-boyfriend know it, Brendon knew it after our second date. I haven’t been on a date since last year, and Mikey is gonna know it, too. Also, it was one date, and here I am freaking the fuck out. I can’t ask him to deal with that.” Patrick sighs, rubbing Pete’s back.

“Pete, you aren’t someone to “deal with.” You’re just you. And you’re amazing to be around.” Pete waits for the but, which inevitably comes. This is always how Patrick’s pep talks go. “But, you just—sometimes it’s really all or nothing with you, yknow? Like, if things aren’t going to work out until you die, there’s no point. And sometimes you’re so sure about things. Not everyone is like that.”

Pete bites his lip. He needs to think about this. “I don’t know how to be any different.”

“I don’t think it’s about being different.” Patrick says thoughtfully. “I think it’s about learning to trust yourself better and not just do things out of self-preservation.” Patrick is a beautiful soul. Pete stares at him with wide eyes filled with wonder.

“C’mon, let me walk you home, Trick.” He gets up and takes their mugs to the counter. “On the way, let’s talk about when you’re finding love. But I think I gotta go home before more people emerge or I’m gonna bite someone’s arm off on accident.” As he heads for the door, he tosses over his shoulder, “Seriously, Patrick, why didn’t you remind me I hate gore?”

“Oh my god. I hate you.” Patrick sighs but comes along all the same.  
___

Pete spends part of the day watching tv with his mom. His dad is out of town for business again and his siblings are doing some social shit, so it’s a quiet day.

He takes his pills when his mom reminds him to, and tries to reassure her that he’s fine, just tired. It’s mostly true at this point, and he doesn’t want to worry her.

It’s early evening and Pete is laying on his floor with his legs propped up on his bed. He’s bored and tired but he can’t sleep now or he will wake up at 1am and be awake forever again. Mikey hasn’t texted, and neither has Pete. He needs to think of something to say. It’d be a bad move not to text Mikey today, after he got all weird last night. He decides to return to flirting.

“hey mikeyway, been thinking about me? ;)” He figures he doesn’t have much to lose at this point.

_ive been thinking about how im not sure i can trust you if you don’t like pancakes_

Pete is so offended. “little obsessed with what i put in my mouth, aren’t you?” He snickers to himself. Maybe he can just act like nothing got weird last night and he is totally normal.

_wow_

He waits to see if anything else is going to come, but nothing does. Mikey is really not making this easy on him.

“can i write you a note tomorrow?”

_sure. locker #793_

“see you then p.s. yr face is cute”

_:)_

Pete wonders if a smiley face is like the ultimate symbol in Mikey’s world. It’s intriguing. Mikey is giving him so little to go off of, but he isn’t running away, and he continues to give Pete information about himself.

Now he has to think of what to write to Mikey, and it’s a good distraction for his brain for the rest of the night. Since he secretly plans on writing Mikey notes for the rest of his life, despite Patrick’s advice, he has a lot to think about.  
___

Pete fully intends on getting to school before Mikey in the morning, but Joe convinces him otherwise when Pete suggests they walk to school early. Fine. He’ll do it as soon as he gets there. But then Joe convinces him that sometimes it’s best to take a step back, just take your time, and appreciate a situation. Plus, walking to school quickly is a bummer, and Joe is too lazy to do it. Pete wonders how much weed you have to smoke before your brain stays stoned all the time, but he huffs out a “Fine.”

Joe might be right though. He can go after first period, since both of his first classes are in that wing anyway, and that would be a logical thing for him to do.

As soon as his first period is out though, he beelines for locker #793. He’s lucky, because Mikey is there when he arrives, and Pete feels a tingle in his nerves. Pete takes a deep breath and sidles up beside Mikey, who doesn’t see him at first since the open door is blocking his view.

“Delivery for Mikeyway.” He grins, knocking lightly on Mikey’s locker door.

Mikey starts a little, but relaxes when he sees Pete. He swears he almost sees a smile form. It’s excellent. “Hey.” Pete wonders how long it will take for Mikey to consistently speak more than 3 syllables at a time to him, or if he always just talks like this.

Pete doesn’t hesitate to reach out and tuck his carefully folded note into Mikey’s jeans’ pocket.

“Thanks.” Mikey blinks at him, shifting from skinny leg to skinny leg.

“No, thank you.” Pete chirps. “So, how was your weekend?”

The warning bell rings, and Pete is so tempted to suggest they skip next period, because he totally has the key to the soccer office and what if they just slipped away…

Sadly, Mikey says, “I better go. I have to give a presentation on the Opium Wars.” He does seem sad about it, at least.

“Ah. Those imperialist British bastards.” Pete nods sympathetically. “See ya later.”

“Bye.” Mikey answers, shutting his locker.

Pete is halfway down the hall when Mikey calls after him, “Wait!” and it’s the loudest he has heard Mikey speak before. “What’s your locker number?”

Pete smiles and points at the note in Mikey’s pocket. He did think ahead about this, as he definitely wants to encourage Mikey leaving him any and all locker presents. But he’s thrilled that Mikey asked. He thinks this is a good sign.

His first note to Mikey details how although he refuses to watch more zombie movies, he will promise to do research so that when the zombie apocalypse comes, he can still contribute, and he won’t just be dead weight. Just in case Mikey was worried.

On Tuesday, Mikey puts a note in Pete’s locker. It’s a copy of a comic that he and Gerard made together. It’s about a dream Mikey had where there’s a giant lobster guarding another dimension at the bottom of the ocean, and if it leaves its post the world gets sucked through the portal. It’s amazing, and kind of sad. Mikey writes a short note tucked inside about how he’s had strange dreams his whole life, and sometimes he feels like he’s going to get lost inside of them.

On Wednesday, Pete gives Mikey a doodle that he made in European History of Mikey feeding pancakes to zombies, and asks if Mikey will come to Travis’s house party this Friday with him.

On Thursday, Mikey says yes, gives Pete his address, and tells him about the first time he listened to New Order, and how he likes to rewrite the songs to be about gardening sometimes, because he thinks it’s funny.

On Friday, Pete tells Mikey he will pick him up at 9:30 sharp, and gives Mikey a mixtape of Britpop that he threw together (see: spent six hours on after soccer practice last night).

When Pete goes over to pick up Mikey, he’s sitting on the front porch with Gerard, smoking. Pete wonders vaguely what Gerard does with his time, since he noticed Gerard’s car in the parking lot at school multiple times this week. Pete’s eighteen, Mikey must be seventeen or eighteen, and he knows Gerard is older, yet he seems to be around a lot.

When he approaches, he feels awkward, because Gerard is kind of staring at him, and Mikey isn’t exactly good, or concerned, with bridging social situations. “Hi.” He waves, then sticks his hands in his pockets and kicks the ground awkward as Mikey does up his jacket and puts on his shoes.

“See ya later, Gee.” Mikey is almost past him, when Gerard grabs his hand. He stands up and says something to Mikey that is too quiet for Pete to hear, and Pete averts his gaze because he feels like he’s intruding. Mikey rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, okay?” Pete sees Mikey pat Gerard’s shoulder from the corner of his eye, and then Mikey is off the porch in one step, long-legged motherfucker that he is.

“Bye!” Pete chirps, and Gerard gives him a half-hearted wave, but he gets the feeling that he hasn’t won over Big Brother’s approval yet. He files away in the back of his mind that he should learn more about Gerard, because he’s clearly important to Mikey. Pete’s a little jealous. He loves his siblings, but they don’t have much in common, and sometimes Pete feels pretty disconnected from his family.

“Everything okay?” Pete asks Mikey once they’re partway down the block. He glances back and sees Gerard still on the porch, smoking and watching them. He tries not to shiver. Gerard kind of looks eerie in dim lighting, his face cast in shadow with the porch-light blazing behind him. Mikey just shrugs, a flicker of fond annoyance on his face. “He’s just being dramatic and overprotective. Probably trying to freak you out.” Pete doesn’t know how he is supposed to feel about this, so he just lets it drop.

“Hey I’ve been wondering something—why didn’t I see you at school before recently?” He asks, changing topics. It’s a big school, but it’s not that big. How could someone like Mikey have hidden from him for over three years?

“Oh, I went to the Catholic school, the one that’s like 20 minutes away—Our Lady of Peace? I went there until this year, and now I’m mostly in art classes, even though I’m, like, not that good at them.” This makes sense to Pete, since he also can’t remember ever seeing Frank or Gerard around. Or, well, he thinks maybe he has seen Frank at shows, but he isn’t positive.

“So, why the change?” He’s curious what would cause someone to change schools in their senior year. He hopes it isn’t something terrible, though, like they tried to exorcise him or something.

Mikey blushes though, and Pete’s curiosity starts to burn in his chest. “Oh, uh, it’s pretty stupid.” Mikey says dismissively.

“I like stupid.” Pete responds, doing his best to sound casual.

“I, uh, made a collage of Judas blowing Jesus. It was just a joke, I didn’t mean for anyone to see it, but then they fucking searched our lockers because they heard someone had weed, and I guess they suspected me, but all they found was….yeah.” Mikey is blushing furiously now, and Pete is cracking up like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard.

“No way.” Pete breathes in between laughing. He can’t get over imagining some wrinkly old white Father or some nuns finding the collage. “I bet they thought it was hot, though, if you think about it.”

“I distinctly have not thought about it, but thanks.” Mikey laughs a little, too, but his face is still red. Pete’s heart is hammering looking at the flush on Mikey’s neck.

“Anyway, I did actually have weed, but it was hidden in my shoes so they didn’t find it.” Mikey tells him with a smirk. Pete might truly be smitten. He may or may not have a thing for defying authority (as in, he obviously does.)

“So, they kicked you out?” Pete presses, remembering the original reason he asked.

“Well, not exactly. It was more, like, either I left, or I stayed and had to go to one-on-one counselling with priests and church therapists, like, five times a week. Although my parents were sadistic enough to have Gee and I go there in the first place, they weren’t sadistic enough for that.” Mikey shrugs like it’s no big deal. Pete wonders what Mikey’s parents are like for a moment. He’s also relieved that Mikey didn’t have to do that, because a) that sounds fucking scarring, and b) he may never have met Mikey otherwise.

Pete’s brain is half occupied by thinking about the coincidences of life and the other half puts its energy into asking Mikey for random stories about Catholic school all the way to Travis’. He’s a little sad when they get there, he was getting kind of lost in the easy flow of their conversation and the sound of their shoes on the pavement. He forgot they were going somewhere loud and hectic and crowded.

It’s officially dark out now, and he can see people moving inside through the windows in a warm, hazy glow. Pete’s nervous and he isn’t sure why—it’s just a thrum running beneath his skin, but there’s nothing to do about it. He takes Mikey’s hand and leads him around the back so they can enter through the kitchen, like Travis instructed, as if that would somehow keep everyone from noticing the underage drinking happening, but whatever. Pete’s grateful anyway, because the kitchen isn’t as crowded as the living room, but he’s already a little overstimulated.

Gabe is DJing—Pete can see him through the door, set up in the corner with his kind of shitty sound system that has mostly been scraped together from ads in the paper, but it’s impressive all the same. He sees some people already dancing, but most are standing around and talking, since it’s a little too early for much dancing.

“Let’s get a drink!” He whisper-shouts to Mikey, still attached at the hands. Mikey nods in agreement, and Pete pulls them through the kitchen to where he spotted some bottles lined up. Travis takes hosting pretty seriously, which is weird because he takes nothing else nearly as seriously, and he always sets up an elaborate drink table. How he affords it, Pete has never asked.

As they’re making themselves drinks (Pete is generally team rum and coke, and apparently Mikey is a vodka sprite person, which Pete finds fascinating), Pete spots Patrick across the room, leaning against the fridge. He nods towards Patrick, and Mikey shrugs but nods, and Pete realizes that they have likely never met before and that Mikey has no idea who he is gesturing to. He can’t allow this to continue, and promptly leads Mikey across the room.

Once he’s pushed through a few people and has a better view of Patrick, he notices that he’s talking to some tall dude in a Metallica shirt with short super curly hair. The dude has his arms crossed, and is nodding and smiling a lot at whatever Patrick is saying.

“Mikey!” The guy exclaims, and Pete is momentarily very confused and a little suspicious. Who’s this guy he doesn’t know who knows Patrick? And Mikey? Pete wonders if there’s a conspiracy afoot.

“Hey, Ray.” Mikey smiles his lopsided smile back (Pete is developing a theory that the more lopsided, the more obviously pleased Mikey is).

Introductions ensue, and Pete does his best to not stare down every interaction between Mikey and Patrick. Really, what he wants to do is just lock them in a room together, watch on the other side of a one-way mirror, and then quiz them on their initial impressions of each other afterwards. Nothing drastic.

Pete learns that Mikey and Ray know each other from Our Lady, and they seem to be friends, but that doesn’t fill in the rest of the gaps for Pete.

“How do you know each other then?” He asks, gesturing between Patrick and Ray. Pete is always fascinated when Patrick knows people he doesn’t know. He supposes it makes sense, they are entirely separate people after all, but he still is a little confused every time it happens.

“Our Lady doesn’t exactly have the best music program, so a few of us came to band practice a few times a month so we can actually play real music. I went up until this summer, but I graduated so I don’t go anymore. This is the first I’ve run into Patrick in a few months.” Ray explains, and Pete is a little suspicious about why that last bit of information was necessary. Pete is not an overbearing best friend, not at all.

“Ray’s an amazing guitarist. We were just talking about his classes at the community college.” Patrick supplies, and Pete does his best not to make a really obvious face. Patrick is acting weird, nodding too much at the things Ray says, and fidgeting with the drink in his hand so much that he spills some on the floor more than once.

“Mikey was in band with me, too, actually, although I wouldn’t say he really took it very seriously.” Ray adds, smirking.

“I played the triangle.” Mikey explains, and Pete can’t help but imagine him totally deadpan, hitting the notes intentionally wrong every time. It’s such an adorable image that Pete decides to down his drink to keep himself from squealing out loud, but he does squeeze Mikey’s hand.

They keep talking about the difference in equipment between the two schools’ bands, and then the difference between high school band and community college music programs. Pete could be interested in this conversation in another context, but this time he has trouble paying attention. He’s feeling antsy and he needs to move around. He’s sometimes a shit person to go to parties with, or so he’s been told, because once he gets over the initial overstimulation he needs to bounce from room to room and is terrible at holding one conversation.

He doesn’t want to be a total dick to Mikey though, but he’s also gonna lose it if he stays in one place any longer. He tugs on Mikey’s hand until he gets his attention, and then leans in so he doesn’t have to shout. “Could I come back and find you in a little bit? I just—need to move around.” Maybe Mikey can see how Pete is practically bouncing in place, because he just nods and lets go of Pete’s hand. Pete is sad to leave him, but he thinks it’ll be helpful if he fucks off a bit and comes back when he feels like he can pay attention at all.

Pete makes a brief stop at the drink table for another rum and coke, double strength this time, and then he’s weaving through people, wandering from the kitchen into the living room. The lights are darker in here, and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust fully. Gabe and Travis are arguing by the sound system, and Pete goes over to check it out. He’s happy to just kind of bounce in the corner, listening to the two of them and not having to talk to people while he works on his second drink.

“C’mon, man, it would be so sick, I promise I’ll do a good job!”

He’s heard this argument approximately once a month for the last two years, since Travis started his tattoo apprenticeship. He is always trying to convince Gabe to get a tattoo from him. Pete is not clear on why either side is so insistent.

“Shit, man, just leave me alone, I don’t want one of your shitty tattoos!” Gabe is waving a hand at Travis, not looking at him as he fiddles with a dial in front of him.

“They. Are. Not. Shitty.” Pete can see that Gabe might have gone too far this time. Travis’s arms are crossed, and he looks pissed.

Gabe backs down a little, which is probably a smart move. “Okay, okay, I know, I just don’t want one right now.”

Travis’s eyes are still narrowed, but just then he notices Pete, and a smile spreads on his face. “Pete would get one, because Pete is a good friend.” It is true that Pete would get one, but that may be more about how much Pete does or does not value his body, and less about his faith in Travis’s tattooing. Which, admittedly, is pretty good, but he sometimes rushes at the end and so something that started out looking fucking awesome would end up kind of mediocre. Pete hasn’t told him this, though. He doesn’t want to get involved, so he just shrugs and grins.

Travis still looks triumphant. “See, told you he would.”

Gabe has had enough though. “Would you just get the next fucking track ready? Jesus, you’d think you wouldn’t want dead air at your own damn party.” He shoves Travis’s shoulder but it’s playful, and Travis seems to let it drop for now. Pete feels like he’s missing something, but he just wants to pay attention to the sounds the two are mixing. They’re weaving together underground hiphop that Pete has never heard before with electronic beats and it could sound very cheesey but it actually sounds fucking incredible tonight, and more and more people are coming in to dance.

Pete doesn’t feel like dancing though, and he doesn’t really feel like talking, and he doesn’t know why he’s in here and not with Mikey. He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. Maybe he isn’t waiting for anything, and just needed some of his nervous energy to wear off. He thinks he’s feeling more relaxed now. He’s gonna at least attempt to locate Mikey so maybe he can just watch him from a distance for a while. He isn’t sure if that’s a normal thing to do, but whatever.

But then he runs into Joe, and spends a good ten minutes talking about nothing. He’s starting to feel more in his element, and the alcohol is buzzing in his veins. Joe invites him out back to smoke, but Pete declines. He’s getting eager to find Mikey, thinking maybe they could dance for a while, but it’s more crowded than it was earlier and it takes him a while to make his way through the rooms.

Pete is feeling warm and happy and good when he finds Mikey again. He’s at the drink table pouring himself another vodka sprite. Pete notices that he’s left his coat somewhere, and he’s now just wearing a cut-off black shirt. His shirt is riding up in the back, and the sleeveless tee thing is really doing it for Pete.

Mikey is at this party with him, he hasn’t run away yet, and Pete is tired of being careful and slow. Also, Mikey looks positively delicious. Pete comes up behind Mikey and touches his hip lightly, leaning into his ear to whisper _“Mikeyway, i wanna kiss you all over.”_

Mikey starts a little and whirls around, drink in hand sloshing. Pete keeps his wolfish grin at bay, because he’s been told it’s not exactly sexy, and is closer to “demented”. Instead he just quirks a brow at Mikey and bites his bottom lip.

Mikey stares at him for a minute, then pounds his drink back in about three gulps. He grabs Pete’s hand and leads them to the stairs across the room so quickly Pete almost stumbles to keep up. Once they reach the upper platform, Mikey just looks at him, and it takes Pete a second to realize that Mikey knows nothing about this house and is probably expecting Pete to pick a room. There’s a small study on the left, and it’ss be less weird than making out in someone’s bedroom, so Pete leads them to it and pulls Mikey inside.

As soon as the door is shut, Mikey pushes him up against the door and starts kissing Pete, and they push against each other so hard it hurts a little, but Pete doesn’t care at all. He bites back a groan and pulls Mikey as close to him as he can, feeling like he can barely breathe. It’s fast and sloppy, and Pete is so into it. It seems like Mikey is, too, from the way he’s pining Pete to the door with his hips and his hands are seriously fucking up his hair. He’s pulling Pete’s hair a little, and it’s so hot.

Pete moves forward so he has space to flip them around and pushes Mikey’s shoulders back against the door with his hands. Mikey’s chest is straining forward exactly like Pete had imagined and he’s breathing heavily. His eyes rake up and down Mikey and he leans in slowly but purposefully, putting a thigh between Mikey’s legs and kissing Mikey’s neck. Mikey tilts his head back and sighs, making small, sharp noises when Pete bites down on his neck.

Pete is satisfied to spend a little while on Mikey’s neck, leaving a mark or two, and Mikey’s hands are trailing across the small of his back under his shirt. He wonders if Mikey can feel the shitty, illegal tattoo on his back that has kind of fucked up his skin, but if he feels it he doesn’t react. It feels great, until Mikey suddenly says to him quietly, “You know I don’t, like, expect you to call me tomorrow, or whatever.” His voice is breathy and Pete likes the way it sounds, but his words don’t really make sense. Pete isn’t really sure what that has to do with anything, so he just detaches his mouth long enough to get out a “huh?”

“I mean, you just wanna hook up, right? It’s okay with me.” Mikey tells him, his hands going still as Pete pulls back.

“Why would you think that?” He asks quietly, his stomach plummeting.

“Am I wrong? I just mean, like, you don’t have to do all of this other shit you’re doing.” Mikey looks utterly confused.

“What other shit?” Pete has no idea what Mikey is talking about.

“Like the notes and compliments and shit. You don’t have to do that.” Mikey shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, but his face is starting to twist up a bit.

Suddenly, it starts to make sense to Pete. Mikey’s suspicious face that he got every once in a while. Gerard’s looks. The way Mikey seemed confused when Pete didn’t kiss him. “But—wait—so, this whole time, you thought I was just…trying to add another notch to my bedpost or something?” Pete stammers, trying to catch up.

Mikey looks away and red is creeping up his neck, as if now that it’s said aloud he doesn’t know what to do with it. “I—I didn’t know what to think. But, it seemed to make sense.” He admits, still not looking at Pete.

“Mikey…that’s not—that’s not it.” Pete feels a little crushed. He doesn’t know why exactly. It’s not Mikey’s fault that he thought Pete was just trying to use him and lose him. But maybe that’s what Mikey wants, and Pete hadn’t thought to consider that before. He knew he might scare Mikey off, but he hadn’t considered that maybe he wasn’t even trying to get to know him in the first place.

“But why??” Mikey asks so forcefully it almost sounds like he’s mad at Pete, his eyes darting back to Pete’s. His expression is hard, and his fists are clenched. “What do you want from me, Pete?”

“I—dont—I—“ Pete stutters, his breath feeling shake-y in his chest. He wants to run away. The alcohol isn’t helping—his feelings have always been able to go to zero to one hundred when he drinks, so even though he hasn’t had a lot it doesn’t help. “I don’t know what you expect me to say. I don’t want anything?” He’s so confused by this conversation. Did he have a conversation with Mikey that he doesn’t remember? Did they sign some kind of agreement that Pete doesn’t know about, in which Pete was a giant douchebag?

Mikey has crossed his arms. He’s glaring at the ground like it’s wronged him. “Are you mad at me?” Pete asks.

“No. Yes. No. I don’t know.” Mikey huffs. “I just. I don’t know what to think.” Mikey repeats, as if it will make more sense to Pete this time.

“I don’t know what you mean by that. I’m not, like, trying to trick you or something? I mean the things I say. I just—“ Pete was about to say that he just really fucking likes Mikey and feels like he’s imploding every time he sees or talks to him, but the words die in his throat, because he’s so fucking confused and there’s hurt creeping in. “If I was doing something to make you think—to make you feel like I was trying to do something else, I’m sorry.” Pete says.

The silence that follows feels so heavy Pete feels like he could scream. Something needs to break it or he’s gonna run away. Pete can’t believe that less than five minutes ago he was kissing Mikey and feeling Mikey getting hard pressed against him, because, yeah, he totally felt that. Now, this just sucks. Pete couldn’t feel less sexy than he does now.

“I need to think.” Mikey declares, but some of the tension has left his body. “I’m—sorry. I’m gonna go.” Mikey moves towards the door, but he stops next to Pete. He leans down and kisses Pete’s cheek. It’s so tentative and quick, but Pete feels his stomach rise a few inches off the floor. “I’m sorry. But, look—I’ll—talk to you later.” Mikey doesn’t sound totally convinced, but Pete thinks this is better than nothing.

“Bye.” Pete breathes, but Mikey has already shut the door on his way out.

___

Pete spends about five minutes with his head in his hands, hyperventilating. What. The. Fuck. He needs to find Patrick.

He pulls himself together enough to leave the room and head back downstairs. It’s louder and more crowded than he remembers, and he feels disoriented and confused. Luckily, he bumps into Maja where she’s leaning against the wall, nodding along to the music. Gabe is a great DJ.

“Hey.” Pete says, giving a small wave. She looks him and up and down, and he can practically feel her judgment. He knows this is just how she is, and he isn’t actually offended. She always gives him shit.

“Nice hair.” She says coolly.

“Huh? Oh.” Pete reaches up and attempts to flatten his hair. “Have you seen Patrick?” He asks hopefully.

She smiles then, and points across the room towards the couches. Pete doesn’t see Patrick on them though, and it isn’t until he starts looking at the people dancing near them that he spots the tell-tale trucker hat.

Then his jaw drops to the fucking floor.

Patrick is fucking making out with nerdy curly-hair Metallica dude. What’s his name? Ray, right. Pete is thrilled. He completely forgets about his problems for a minute, and it takes every part of his being not to run up to Patrick and start screaming happily.

Maja brings him back to Earth though. “Saw that skinny dude booking it out of here.” She says, cause she’s really smart and obviously has some idea of what’s going on. “What did you do, Pete, propose to him with a cockring?” She teases. Pete just looks down. It’s not her fault, she couldn’t know that Pete already feels like shit about himself. She notices though, and puts a hand on his arm. “Hey, you okay?” Her voice is softer now.

Pete looks across the room at Patrick again. He really fucking wants to talk to Patrick, but there’s no way in hell he is interrupting Patrick getting makeouts for more of the Never-Ending Pete Saga.

Maybe Maja can help him, anyway. “Can I ask you a few questions?” He asks. She nods, her curiosity piqued.

“What did you think of me when you first met me, and when I…uh…kept following you?” Pete asks, feeling a bit ashamed about it these days. He’s learned that he needs to watch the signs better. “Also, sorry about that.”

“I thought you were annoying.” She says it so matter of factly, and he knows it isn’t to make him feel bad. “I thought you seemed kind of sweet, but I didn’t feel like you were really seeing me.” She adds.

Pete mulls this over. She’s right, of course. “Yeah. That makes sense. Thank you.” Then a moment later, he has to ask— “Did you think that I meant it, though?”

Maja thinks about this for a minute, taking a long sip of her beer. “I think you thought you meant it.” She answers finally. He nods, taking it all in.

“So, what’s the deal with skinny boy?” Maja asks after he’s been quiet for a minute.

“He thinks I just wanted a hook up and told me I didn’t have to worry about calling him tomorrow.” Pete wonders if this is oversharing.

“Ouch. That’s not the Pete I know. If anything, I’m surprised he doesn’t, like, think you want to get his name tattooed on your ass.”

“Right!?” Pete exclaims, feeling a little vindicated. “But now I’m like, is that what he wants from me? And why does he think that about me?”

“I dunno. I obviously don’t know this guy. But I think misunderstandings usually say something about both people. And maybe because you come on so strong, he doesn’t think it’s sincere.” Maja shrugs. Pete thinks about this. Huh. That hadn’t occurred to him, that it wasn’t just his fault, or something. Maybe there’s something he can learn about Mikey in this. He latches on to that, because it’s better than nothing.

“Whoa. Cool.” Pete starts to nod. “Hey, thanks. I really appreciate it. And I am sorry, about before. Let me know if you ever need anything?” Pete really means it, and hopes it doesn’t sound empty. He is trying to grow, and he cares about her, and he owes her. She smiles, and it makes Pete smile, too.

“Okay, Petey, it’s been great talking about your overabundance of feelings, but I need another drink and I don’t wanna miss the chance to dance before Gabe lets Vicky DJ. I mean, I love her, but dance music is not her strongest point.” She waves goodbye to him and starts to leave, but shoots a glare over her shoulder and adds, “You tell anyone I said that, you’re done for, Wentz.” Pete holds his hands up innocently. He would never dream of it.

With Maja gone, Pete isn’t sure what to do with himself. He looks around the room. There’s plenty of people he could talk to or dance with, but he thinks it’s time to head home. Patrick is still making out with Ray, and Pete is still stoked about it.

He decides to find his coat and just slip out, no one else will miss him, and he doesn’t really feel like talking to anyone else. On his way home, he types out a borderline obscene text to Patrick, reminding him to be safe, and how he totally saw Ray’s hand on Patrick’s ass, and how he is positively ecstatic that Patrick is discovering his filthy side. He knows Patrick will be annoyed, but he will probably also get a laugh out of it, and that’s all Pete wants.

The streets are quiet, and his footsteps sound loud in his ears. It’s only a twenty minute walk, and he almost wishes it were longer, and he didn’t just have a dark, quiet house waiting for him, with little prospect for good sleep.

As predicted, his house is lifeless when he arrives. His parents are gone this weekend, his mom accompanying his dad on one of his many business trips, and his brother and sister are probably holed up in their rooms already.

When Pete crawls into bed, his temporary hope he had gotten from Maja is drowned out for a while by the words _“What do you want from me, Pete?”_ and how Mikey had looked at him like he couldn’t possibly be trusted. It doesn’t feel good, especially when he himself isn’t even sure if he should convince Mikey to trust him.

Pete lays there for hours, his stomach in knots, turning over every fifteen minutes or so. It’s about 4:30 in the morning when he finally starts to drift off. The last conscious thing he thinks about before he falls asleep is the way Mikey groaned when Pete bit his neck. He’s too tired to even feel bittersweet about it, and he allows himself a few minutes of bliss.  
___

He doesn’t hear from Mikey the whole next day. He tries not to freak out. He wonders if there’s something he is supposed to do, but he thinks that if Mikey wants to talk to him, he will.

Around 4pm, he gets a text from Andy: _pizza parlor, 6:30?_ and is glad that Andy has saved him from an evening of angsting at home alone.

“yes fckfce i will c u thr” Pete writes back cheerily, feeling relieved.

When he gets to the pizza parlor, Patrick and Andy are already there. He is so happy to see Patrick, because that motherfucker has been vague as fuck over text all day, and Pete needs details like twelve years ago. “You.” He points at Patrick the whole time as he crosses the room to sit down at the booth with them. “Tell me. Now.”

Andy glances between the two of them. “Tell you what?” Pete crosses his arms and stares at Patrick, who is blushing like crazy.

The door chimes, and Pete glances sideways, but refuses to turn his body away from Patrick at all. Joe comes through the door and saunters over to them, and Pete thanks god when the first thing he says is, “Dude, I heard Patrick got laid.”

“WHAT!?” Andy screams loud enough that someone a few tables away knocks over the salt in their surprise. Pete is giggling uncontrollably.

“Dude had his hand on Patrick’s ass, IT WAS THE BEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN!” He shrieks, and Patrick literally facetables, shaking the laminate.

“I didn’t get laid!” Patrick protests into the table, kicking at Pete, but he doesn’t even care. “We just made out.” Patrick tells them reluctantly. Andy and Joe let out howls, and Pete wonders vaguely if they are gonna get kicked out. He gives zero fucks though.

“Whatever dude, by Patrick standards, you basically ran a home run last night.” Pete reaches across the table and pats Patrick’s head affectionately.

“And we are gonna hang out next weekend.” Patrick mumbles. Pete isn’t fooled by Patrick’s bashfulness. He knows his best friend is thrilled. All three of them cheer and clap, and Joe gets up to do a dance while slapping Patrick on the back.

“I. Hate. All. Of. You. Motherfuckers.” Patrick groans.

“Okay, dude, so dramatic.” Pete laughs, and yes, he gets the irony of him calling Patrick dramatic. Then he adds, “We’re just happy for you. You’re the best person we know, Trick, and deserve to feel like it, okay? But if he hurts you, I will fucking kill him.” Joe and Andy nod along.

“Kill him.” Joe adds for emphasis.

Patrick is saved by their pizza arriving, and Pete is glad they didn’t need to wait for everyone to be there to know what everyone wanted, because he is starving. Huh, he kind of forgot to eat today.

After they devour the pizza in about fifteen minutes, all the while listening to details on the new video game Joe is playing, Pete decides to go for a smoke. He doesn’t smoke a lot these days, maybe just one every few days or else it will fuck with his running too much, but it sounds nice right now. Also, he needs an excuse to get Patrick alone. He makes eye contact with Patrick and tilts his head towards the door, and Patrick nods.

Once they’re outside, Pete gives Patrick a big hug. They stand there for a few minutes, and he’s so happy to feel Patrick relax in his arms. “Patrick, Patrick, what’s up, my love?” Pete nuzzles the side of Patrick’s face.

“Nothing. Just overwhelmed.” And Pete _so_ gets that.

“I know, I know.” Pete rubs Patrick’s back. “So, do you like him?” He can’t help but ask, so sue him.

“Yes. I’ve had a crush on him for like, the last 6 months, but when you only see someone at marching band, it doesn’t feel like it was gonna go anywhere, and then he stopped coming, but…yeah. Also, he’s a really good musician. He’s, like, brilliant.” This is Patrick’s version of swooning. Pete feels like he must be radiating a beacon of light from his chest, he’s so pleased.

“You’re gonna fall in love, my little Trick, and it will be glorious.” Pete sing-songs.

“Okay, please do not project Pete-level expectations onto my one party makeout with a cute dude or I will literally not be able to handle this.” Patrick groans into his shoulder.

Pete giggles. “You know I make no promises.” They let go of each other and lean against the brick wall of the pizza parlor.

They’re quiet for a moment, Pete smoking and Patrick staring dreamily into the distance. Suddenly he comes back to himself and turns to Pete. “Hey, what happened with Mikey last night? You haven’t told me. That’s very un-like you.” Patrick thinks about this for a second, and then his eyes start to widen. “Oh god. What happened?”

Pete swallows, letting out a shake-y laugh because Patrick is right, this is like, the olympics of Pete dealing with his own things and not just funnelling everything through Patrick. “Oh, uh…not good.” He mumbles, kicking at a rock in the pavement. The beacon of happiness in his chest starts to dim.

“Oh no.” Patrick breathes sympathetically, his earnest eyes now full of concern for Pete, and Pete hates that he is killing Patrick’s high.

“He, uh, thinks I just wanted to sleep with him, and when I told him that wasn’t true, he left. I guess he thought everything I was doing was just because of that.” It sounds pretty bad when Pete puts it like that, but that is basically what happened.

Patrick looks so sad Pete wishes he could take it back. “Oof.” He rubs the back of Pete’s neck. “What are you gonna do?”

“Dunno. He said he had to think. I guess I wait?” Pete shrugs. He grinds out the butt of his cigarette and puts it in the dispenser by the door, and shoves his hands in his pockets. Stupid Mikey Way with his stupid cute face and his stupid wrong ideas. “I guess I also have to accept that he might, like, not want to see me now.” Patrick makes a sympathetic sound and keeps rubbing Pete’s neck.

“That’s very mature of you, Pete.” He sounds a little proud. It’s true, old Pete would be planning a grand gesture about now. “Maybe he thinks because you’re so straight forward that you’re trying to play him, or something.”

Ugh. Pete has heard this before. He supposes it makes sense, but he doesn’t go around spouting affection for people because he wants to hurt them. He just does it cause he feels it, and he wants them to know. “Maja said maybe it’s not just about me though, and that it’s about him, too, yknow?” Pete offers, feeling a little hopeful.

Patrick nods for a few seconds. “Maja is really smart. Also, that’s hilarious that she gave you advice.” He smirks a little.

“Oh, I know it. Okay, time for more pizza, and more details on your new-found love life.” Pete grins and grabs Patrick’s hand to lead him back inside.

After the pizza is decimated, they go back to Pete’s house since his parents are gone and they can smoke weed in his basement. Once they’re all good and stoned (again, minus Andy, always minus Andy), Pete is lying stretched out on the carpet, feeling more relaxed than he has in days. Sometimes he wishes he could smoke weed all the time. Tomorrow, when he feels groggy and his throat feels scratchy, he will remember why he doesn’t.

He doesn’t even realize Andy is trying to talk to him until Andy slaps his stomach. “Hey!” He yells, bolting upright. Rude. He was getting lost thinking about how it must feel to be that lobster from Mikey’s dream, to be responsible for the whole world like that. “Can I help you?”

Andy rolls his eyes. “Dude, do you want to play bass with us at the end of November? Racetraitor is playing at Violet and Eric has to go visit his grandma in St. Paul after surgery.”

Pete’s eyes go wide, and he flashes a thumbs up. “Hell yeah, dude. Yes!”

“It’s that colonial shit holiday break though, are you going out of town?” Pete thinks about this for a minute, because his brain on weed is slow. Oh, right, Thanksgiving. He has been privy to many of Andy’s rants about it, of course.

“Nope, the Wentz’s will be here for colonial shit holiday. Do you have any practices I can come to? I’m seriously rusty on your songs.”

“Duh, we aren’t that sloppy. Tuesdays and Thursdays, they were gonna be at 5 but we can move them to 7 if you have soccer.”

“Just Tuesday I do, Thursday I’m good for 5.” Pete starts grooving in place, the weed and the upcoming show enough to lift his spirits.

They bum around until about 1am, and after his friends head home, Pete feels like he might actually be able to sleep tonight. It only takes about an hour for his nerves and his body to start to quiet down, and he starts to drift off around 2am, which is pretty good for him.

He tries not to think about how he hasn’t heard from Mikey. As time inches on he feels his hope dwindling. But he thinks about how Patrick told him not everyone is as sure of their feelings as he is, and he hopes Patrick is right.

He does let himself think about how if Mikey decides before the end of November that he’s gonna fall in love with Pete, maybe he can get him to come to the show and then Mikey can totally fangirl over him. Perfect.  
___

Sunday passes agonizingly. After a long morning run, he has basically nothing to do except be alone with his thoughts. He plays video games for a while, tries to read, makes food for his brother and sister, watches tv, but nothing holds his attention very long. His parents get home in the evening, and he listens to them talk about their trip for a while, but he has a feeling they got into a fight because things feel tense.

He eventually just decides to go to sleep early, which for Pete means sometime after eleven, and he’s listening to his favorite instrumental mix trying to shut his mind off when in the moonlight he sees something fly through the air and hit his window.

What the fuck? Pete jumps up and crosses the room quickly, ripping the earbuds out of his ears. He opens the window and leans out, looking around. Standing below, about to throw another pebble, is Mikey. Pete feels his heart flutter, but he doesn’t know what it means.

“How do you know where I live?” Is the first thing Pete calls down, more out of curiosity than anything else. And which room was his, now that he thinks of it.

“Do you not remember how you ended your first note by giving me your address and instructions on how I could climb into your window at night if I ever wanted to?” Oh, right. Pete guesses he did do that. Huh, how useful of him.

“Oh. What’s up?” Pete calls back, trying to whisper-shout because he doesn’t want to have to deal with his family.

“Can you come down?” Mikey asks, which is logical. Pete shuts his window and makes his way quickly down the stairs and out the door. He gestures for Mikey to follow him to the backyard where there’s a big tree they can sit behind out of sight.

Pete is too nervous to look at Mikey until he sits down with his back against the tree, and he wraps his arms around himself because it’s cold and because he feels awkward. Mikey sits down across from him and starts picking at the grass.

Mikey seems nervous, too, and he smells slightly like beer. “Thanks for coming down.” He says shyly, and Pete wants him to get to the point any day now because he is starting to freak out.

“No problem. What’s up?” He tells himself that whatever Mikey is about to say, it can’t be that bad, and that he needs to stop feeling like he’s about to break apart.

“I had some time to think.” Pete nods. This is excruciating.

“And?” He prompts.

“I’m sorry.” Mikey starts. Pete waits. He needs more to go off of, because that could mean anything. I’m sorry, but I never want to talk to you again, I’m sorry, but I’m just not into you, I’m sorry, will you marry me, etc, etc.

“I was such a dick. I just, didn’t think all that shit you were saying, I didn’t think you meant it. I didn’t know why you would mean it. And I kept trying to figure it out, and Gerard mentioned that, uh, he had heard of you, like, hooking up with people at parties. So I just kind of accepted that must be why you were talking to me, and that maybe you were just bored or something.”

Pete nods along. He tries not to feel confused and or hurt about whatever Gerard might have heard about him or thinks about him. It’s weird to think that Gerard knew things about him before he knew Gerard or Mikey existed. But he supposes things like that just kind of happen sometimes, and he does kind of know a lot of people. “Why wouldn’t I mean it?” He asks slowly. He still isn’t sure where this is going, and he feels cautious. He has also possibly never heard Mikey say this many words at once, and it’s a lot to process.

Mikey just shrugs. He’s still pulling at the grass and he seems…frustrated? Uncomfortable? Something. Pete doesn’t think that’s much of an answer, but maybe he needs to say something more. “I’m not just bored. I’m most definitely not doing this because I’m bored.”

Mikey looks at him for a moment, and he scoots closer. “What are you doing?” He asks, as if it’s a simple question. Pete reaches out and takes Mikey’s hand, pulling him closer, feeling brave.

“Dunno.” It’s his turn to shrug. He doesn’t have all the answers. “Just like you.” He says. “Don’t just want to hook up with you.” This is the most he can give Mikey for now. He hopes it’s enough.

Mikey nods. “Me too.” He says it quietly, like it’s a secret, and Pete feels relief rush from his chest to his fingertips. “So you wanna—wanna try again?” Mikey asks, and Pete can see the effort it takes him to form the words and hold Pete’s gaze.

“Hell yeah. I can feel you in my _veins_ Mikeyway, I’m not going anywhere.”

Pete leans forward and kisses him, his hands coming up to steady Mikey’s head. It’s a little awkward since they’re both sitting, but he doesn’t care. Mikey breaks away for a moment to tell him quietly, his face pressed against Pete’s “I can’t stop _thinking_ about you. The way you look at me—” He doesn’t elaborate, just pulls Pete closer with a hand behind his head, and Pete catches the aroma of grass and feels like the beacon in his chest is back.  
___

Pete’s week is insanely busy with the added band practices and soccer is more intense than ever with just a few weeks left in the season. He only manages to see Mikey for bits of time to pass him notes, and it sucks. They don’t have any of the same classes or lunch period, and although all Pete wants to do is spend his time with Mikey, he’s still nervous about scaring him off. But by Wednesday afternoon Pete is feeling itchy with anticipation, and he hasn’t really been able to take advantage of their new-found situation where Mikey no longer just thinks Pete is fucking with him. Pete wants to be close to him, dammit. Calculus be damned.

He texts Mikey and asks if he would mind terribly skipping his next period, and almost instantly Mikey responds _r u joking who do u thnk i am?_

Pete beams, and tells Mikey to meet him in the locker room, but to wait for five minutes after the bell rings. Should be enough time for it to be empty.

The soccer office is little more than a closet with stacks of equipment, soccer balls, and a small desk for any admin work. Pete secretly made a copy of the keys his first year on the team. You never know when it will come in handy. The coach isn’t in until later, Pete knows. He texts Mikey where the office is in the locker room, and a few minutes later he hears a soft _knock knock._

Pete opens the door immediately, and there Mikey is. He somehow looks great even in the gross fluorescent of the locker room, and he’s smiling. Pete has to remember to breathe and he pulls Mikey inside gently.

Pete throws the deadbolt on the door and leans against Mikey, his arms going around Mikey’s hips. “Hi.” He mutters, smiling hugely. Mikey rests his head against Pete’s forehead and makes a pleased sound when Pete’s hands go underneath his shirt. He feels Mikey’s chest rise and fall against his own, and he wants to freeze this moment. Until Mikey kisses him, and Pete changes his mind about that.

It’s slower than when they made out at the party, and somehow better, nicer. Pete doesn’t feel like he’s in a hurry, and he’s taking his time to figure out what Mikey likes, like how Mikey seems to love when Pete nibbles on his bottom lip.

Pete can’t get over Mikey’s hands. They are high on his list of things he’s obsessed with about Mikey, which include his eyes that flicker between six different thoughts in two seconds flat, his lopsided smile, and dry sense of humour. He’s gonna write poetry about Mikey’s hands, and he doesn’t give a fuck what anyone says about it. He likes how long they are. He likes the little raised scar on Mikey’s thumb. He likes his boney knuckles, and how the way he touches Pete feels like an awakening.

After they kiss for what feels like forever but no where near long enough, Mikey pulls away and they breathe heavily against each other in the quiet dim of the office.

“I have a test next period.” Mikey says with a shrug, and Pete is pleased that he can tell this is Mikey’s reluctant voice.

“I could tell your teacher that you have indeed spontaneously developed asthma and I need to take you to the doctor immediately?” Pete offers helpfully, hopefully.

“Thanks, but I’m already struggling. I should go.” But he kisses Pete again, and they almost get lost in it, until Mikey pulls away again. “Hey, do you wanna come over Saturday night? Uh, Gerard and I are gonna have a Star Wars marathon. Some other people might be there.” Mikey isn’t looking at him, and he’s trying to play it cool, but Pete can feel Mikey’s hands tighten.

“Are you inviting me to your nerd party?” Pete starts to smile. Mikey rolls his eyes.

“Shut up. But, yes. Do you wanna come or not?” Mikey chances a glance at him, and Pete finds it so adorable he could scream.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” Pete beams and kisses Mikey quickly once more. “Ok let’s go before I lose the rest of my life to staring at you in this gross locker room.” Pete can think of worse things though, and Mikey just rolls his eyes at him, a blush rising on his cheeks.

Sweet.  
___

Pete is running late because his mom suddenly needed his help with like five thousand things, and he doesn’t exactly want to tell her what she’s keeping him from, because she probably wouldn’t see the urgency if he was like “I’m supposed to watch Star Wars with a bunch of weirdos” and a particular weirdo that he’s falling fast for. She hasn’t asked him where he’s going, and it’s probably better like that. It’s not like he lies explicitly to her about his life (too often, at least), but he isn’t exactly an open book about it.

When he finally gets away, he send Mikey a long-winded apology text because he would hate to have Mikey think he’s blowing him off or just being inconsiderate. In classic Mikey fashion, he just says _no worries jus txt when close._

Pete does just that, and Mikey is on the porch to meet him when he arrives. He can’t help but beam at him. He hasn’t seen Mikey since Thursday early in the day, and that feels so long ago now. Mikey looks a little nervous, and Pete wonders what’s up, but before he can ask, Mikey beckons him inside. He realizes this is his first time inside Mikey’s house, but there’s no time to look around because Mikey is making a beeline through the living room, to the kitchen, and to a closed door that leads off of it. He will have to make an excuse to use the bathroom later so he can look around, just enough to know what it actually looks like.

Pete hurries to keep up, and sees that there’s a set of stairs leading downwards. He follows Mikey down them, and at the bottom is a large bedroom that’s already full of people scattered around the surfaces and floor. Pete feels anxiety rise in his throat. He hadn’t thought about this part—he had been so focused on Mikey that he forgot there were going to be other people there. He now wonders if this was why Mikey was nervous, too, because Pete is basically hanging with all of Mikey’s fucking friends at once, holy shit. A little bit of pride mixes with the anxiety in his chest.

Everyone is looking at them, or more specifically, at him, and Pete tries to play it cool. There’s only four other people plus him and Mikey, but it feels like a lot of people. Ray, Frank, and Gerard are all there, and Pete hadn’t realized he and Mikey were such good friends. This is extremely interesting information to have. He looks at the only person he doesn’t know, who is also the only girl in the room. “Uh, hi. I’m Pete.” He waves.

“Hi. I’m Lindsey.” She’s sitting propped against the bed, looking between him and Mikey with a mischievous smile on her face. Pete likes her instantly, but also is a little afraid of her, because she looks seriously badass and cooler than everyone else in the room, him included.

“Cool.” Pete’s smile is a little less forced now.

Pete is only slightly staring at Ray, who looks away from Pete with a blush on his cheeks, a sketchbook laying in his lap forgotten. He isn’t holding any drawing instruments, so Pete thinks he was just looking. Frank and Gerard are sitting close to each other on the bed. Pete tries not to smirk. He gets really invested in other people’s love, and he is already rooting for them. The fact that they may or may not hate him is irrelevant right now.

“Did I miss the beginning of the nerd party?” He asks teasingly and gestures at the paused image on the screen, where Luke is already gazing at Leia’s projected image from R2D2. He hopes it comes off good-naturedly but isn’t sure how not to seem like an asshole.

“Shut up, scaredy-cat, you’re the reason we’re watching Star Wars and not anything remotely resembling zombies. Mikey practically forced us.” Frank shoots at him, his eyes narrowed. Pete thinks this hostility might be a sign of affection.

Pete quirks a brow and looks at Mikey. “Is this true, Mikeyway? Did you do all this for me?” He swoons a little and grabs Mikey’s hand.

“Everyone shut up or I’m gonna burn the house down. Gee, just start the fucking movie again.” But Mikey is totally blushing and gives his hand a squeeze. Pete kisses his cheek quickly when the others look away.

Mikey leads them across the room and settles into a space on the floor between the bed and a large wooden desk full of various piles of things. There’s enough space that they aren’t squished, but it’s most comfortable to sit with their thighs touching, and Pete has no complaints. Mikey is still holding his hand, his thumb rubbing against Pete’s knuckles, and he tries not to think about those hands under his shirt, trailing down towards his—okay, nope, cannot pop a boner in a room full of Mikey’s friends. Especially since he can occasionally feel Gerard and Frank taking turns staring at the side of his head.

He’s not great at paying attention to the movie, even though he fucking loves Star Wars, but there’s plenty to distract him so he isn’t too worried about that. This room is fucking awesome and also he thinks he might be in the den of a serial killer. Or a mad scientist. Or an evil genius. Or something. Dramatic interpretation aside, it’s at least the bedroom of a genius nerd who has some serious dark fantasies and probably a sizeable amount of self-loathing.

Pete has a newfound appreciation for Gerard. Up until this point, all he had seen was Gerard’s shitty car and his relationship with Mikey that deeply outweighed even his level of co-dependence with Patrick. But now it looks like this dude pretty much pukes a twisted beauty on every surface around him. There’s pages and pages from sketchbooks all around the room, and more art than he’s made in his life on the walls alone. There’s classic horror creatures like vampires and zombies, but also a lot of things he wouldn’t know what to call them, and he wonders how much of this has come solely from Gerard’s brain. The more he takes in, the more floored he is.

There’s also a fair amount of garbage and a pretty high number of empty bottles, he notes. It doesn’t smell great, but not so bad that it’s actively bothering him. Mostly stale, with a hint of ash and beer.

Pete has been staring absentmindedly around the room more intently than he realized, because it suddenly occurs to him that people are talking.

“The Ewoks make no sense.” Lindsey is saying. Pete wonders how they got here, because they’re watching the first movie and they have like at least five more hours until they get to Ewoks.

“I like the Ewoks!” Frank pipes up. Apparently this is just a free-for-all commentary period.

“You would.” Mikey rolls his eyes, but there’s a twitch of a smile.

“The love triangle thing was weird and unnecessary.” Gerard adds. “It oversexualized Leia, and she deserved better.” Pete wants to hear more about this, but apparently no one else does, and he has a feeling everyone else has heard this before.

“Okay but, I had such a crush on Luke.” Frank says, a hint of dreamy-ness in his voice. Pete finds this hilarious. He wonders how many times they’ve done this exact thing before.

“I always liked Lando. Not, like, crush-wise really, but just in general. He’s complicated, yknow?” Pete pipes up, wondering how it’s gonna land in this crowd.

“But he’s a snitch!” Frank complains pointedly.

Gerard’s eyes are narrowed at him, and Pete can’t tell if he is passing or failing the test. He thinks inspiring any intense reaction from Gerard with Star Wars opinions is likely to be a generally positive thing…he hopes. “I mean, it sucks that he snitches, but what was he supposed to do? And he helps them as soon as he can! I’m just saying, would any of us have really done differently if we were him?” Pete shuts his mouth instead of babbling some more. He thinks he sees Gerard nod minutely.

“He’s still a snitch.” Frank insists, though now it sounds a little like he’s pouting.

Mikey rolls his eyes, fed up. “Oh my god, Frank, we get it, you’re the most punk and pure of all of us, okay? Now shut the fuck up.” Frank grins and looks pleased, like that is truly all he needed.

Pete smiles at Mikey and kisses him on the cheek again. Mikey blushes again, and he snakes a hand across Pete’s thigh, giving Pete a look that makes him feel all fluttery. He finds it even harder to pay attention after that, all he can think about is Mikey, but he’s okay with that.

He learns a lot of interesting things throughout the evening. Lindsey hates Han Solo, Frank cries when Obi Wan dies, and Ray seems most interested in the starships and space battles—more than once he tells them what he discovered by studying the schematics of the Death Star. Pete finds this delightful. He tries to insert some opinions here and there or just react to the things people are saying. He feels a little awkward in the easy flow they all have, but he doesn’t want to seem totally boring with nothing to say. Gerard generally keeps a running commentary on the world building of Star Wars, and Mikey says the least. Pete wonders if it’s because he’s there or if it’s always like this, everyone babbling away while Mikey mostly speaks up to insert a snarky comment here or there.

That is until Mikey and Gerard argue for about ten minutes straight in increasingly loud voices over who they would want to be in the series. Pete isn’t even clear on what they are arguing about or who is taking what position, but he loves watching them bristle at each other and forget that the rest of them are there.

About halfway through The Empire Strikes Back, Pete heads upstairs to find the bathroom, and doesn’t ask where it is so that he has more of an excuse to wander around. He kind of hopes he doesn’t bump into Mikey’s parents. There’s been no mention of them and he wouldn’t know what to expect.

Upstairs, Mikey’s house is filled with dark particle board, the kind of wood that his dad would refer to as “cheap”. Pete tries to scrub that thought from his brain because he’s not his dad and he does not care, but this is the first moment he’s realizing that Pete’s family is probably more well off than Mikey’s. Despite being side-by-side, he knew their neighborhoods weren’t the same. He wonders if this is one of the reasons Gerard seems less than thrilled with him—maybe he expects Pete to be a jackass about it. God he really hopes he doesn’t do something shitty like that. He wonders what Mikey’s parents do. He still knows so little about Mikey and his family, and it’s weird how much he wants to know.

It doesn’t actually take him that long to find the bathroom, because aside from the living room and kitchen, there’s just a hallway to what he assumes is the backdoor and a set of stairs that go up. He finds the bathroom off of the hallway, and he thinks he hears faint TV sounds coming from upstairs. He assumes that must be where the other bedrooms are, and wonders when he’ll get to see Mikey’s.

After he’s out of the bathroom, he spends a few minutes looking at the pictures on the walls in the living room. The furniture is mostly mismatched. There’s a lot of wood and dark, floral fabrics, and stained glass in as many places as it can be incorporated. There’s also figurines and statues on most surfaces he looks at. It’s a lot to take in, and it’s interesting to see that the rest of the house doesn’t feel totally unlike Gerard’s room, although there’s significantly less horror upstairs. Less, but not totally absent. The pictures on the walls are mostly candid shots or shots of large family dinners in people’s houses.

Mikey’s house feels a lot more casual and expressive than his. Pete’s house is a lot of stark lines and solid colors and too many professionally taken family photos or photos of his dad shaking hands with various businessmen, all of which he has always hated.

As he’s staring at a brass dragon and an accompanying picture of Mikey holding said brass dragon, trying to figure out what it means, Lindsey appears and he nearly jumps out of his skin. She smiles, and Pete wonders if she knows exactly what he’s doing. But she doesn’t call him out, she just says, “Mikey won that at a Renaissance Fair a few years ago.”

Pete grins and holds back a giggle. Now the dark green tunic Mikey was wearing makes a lot more sense. “Wow. What did he have to do for it?” He asks.

Lindsey just shrugs though. “Don’t remember, and I would advise not asking him because he’s been trying to convince his mom to take that picture down for the last year. I guess he doesn’t want anyone getting the idea that he’s a huge dork.” She smirks and Pete senses sarcasm.

“Have you known them a long time?” Pete asks. It sounds like she has.

“Ohhh yeah. I’ve been living next door for over a decade. Front row seats to the anomaly that is the Way Family.” There’s so much warmth in her voice. Pete wants her to keep talking, wishes he could sit her down and ask her a bunch of questions.

Then she adds, “You know, I’ve never seen Gerard pay so much attention to someone Mikey has brought over. I think that means he likes you.” She winks, and Pete blushes. “Mikey, that is.” She clarifies, although Pete didn’t need it. “Gerard, uh…he might take some time.” She shrugs apologetically.

“Any tips?” He asks with a weak smile, since it can’t really hurt.

She thinks for a moment. Then she says, “Don’t try to impress him. Gerard hates show-offs.”

Pete nods. This is extremely helpful, because he has been known to overcompensate and show-off on more than…many, many occasions, actually. He wonders why she’s being so nice to him. “Thanks. I’ll try my best.” He says with a sheepish smile. She pats his arm, and he kind of feels like he’s being pitied, but it’s nice all the same. She heads off to the hallway and Pete goes back downstairs.

He settles back in next to Mikey, and hopes no one notices how long he was gone. He glances around the room, and has to bite back a giggle when he sees that Frank has fallen asleep with his head in Gerard’s lap, and Gerard is stroking his hair. It’s so cute but he worries about disturbing them so he quickly looks away before he does something obvious like “Aww” out loud. Mikey leans his head against Pete’s shoulder, and he is sufficiently distracted from thinking about Frank and Gerard. He traces his fingers up and down Mikey’s arm for the rest of the movie.

It’s almost midnight when the second movie finishes, and Pete sadly resigns himself to the fact that he should head home. His parents won’t worry exactly, and they’re probably already asleep, but if they get up anytime during the night and realize he isn’t there without him having warned them, they might get kind of pissed.

He’s kind of bummed that he hasn’t found an excuse to talk to Ray more. He knows that he and Patrick are going to the music store together tomorrow. He wonders if there’s a way he can follow them without them noticing…Patrick would kill him if he found out though. He will have to think about this. Patrick hasn’t been on a date in like two years, since that girl from summer camp who had sucked and been pretty mean to him, and that only lasted like three weeks after camp ended. Pete has a better vibe this time, but he’s still suspicious of Ray, who just seems nice and nerdy but he must have dark secrets. He wonders if this makes him like Gerard, but he worries that Gerard’s suspicions may be more reasonable.

Instead of ruminating on all of the secrets Ray could be keeping, he pushes that aside for later and turns to Mikey. “Hey.” He says quietly to get Mikey’s attention. “I should probably go.” He hopes Mikey can hear the regret in his voice.

Mikey just nods. “I’ll walk you out?” Pete tries not to beam at such a simple thing. Pete stands and helps pull Mikey up.

He looks at the others, not really sure what to say to them. “I gotta head home. Thanks for having me?” He wishes it sounded less stupid, but there’s nothing he can do now. Gerard just nods at him, his hand still resting on Frank’s head. Ray says a little too cheerfully “Bye have a good night!” and Pete wonders if he’s not the only one who’s nervous. Lindsey hits him with a “See you soon” and a wink and Pete feels flustered in a good way. Maybe if Lindsey likes him everyone else will, too.

Mikey leads him upstairs, and they go out to the front porch to say goodbye. The porch light isn’t on, so it’s kind of dark but Pete can see Mikey in the glow from the streetlights. He’s not exactly making eye contact, but he reaches out for Pete’s hand. Pete smiles and tugs on Mikey’s hand until he looks at him. He leans in, his other hand going to Mikey’s waist to steady him, and kisses him. Mikey responds immediately, pressing against him. It feels so nice Pete almost sighs into it, and they kiss for a while, hands running lightly over each other. Pete wants to freeze this moment, but eventually they stop when a loud pickup truck rumbles by, the easy tranquility broken.

Mikey’s hand is on the back of his neck, his thumb stroking Pete’s cheekbone, and he leans into it. “Think they hate me?” Pete asks, half-jokingly, half not.

“Nah. I think Ray was nervous though, he’s usually almost as talkative as Gerard.” Pete thinks this may be brushing over some of the finer details, but Pete let’s it drop.

“He should be, I will fuck him up if I need to.” Pete tries to look tough and flexes his stubby arms.

Mikey raises a brow at him, before he just laughs at Pete. “You and Gerard could bond over your overprotective reactions. Patronizing, even. No faith in Patrick and I’s judgment.” Mikey says, and Pete does realize the hypocrisy in his approach.

“Okay. I’ll play nice, if you think Ray’s a good guy.” He concedes a little sheepishly.

“I do.” Mikey affirms. “And maybe Gerard will be self-conscious when I tell him you’re being more reasonable than him.” Pete kind of likes the idea of that.

He grins and kisses Mikey again. “Good night, Mikeyway.”

“Good night.” Mikey echoes.

When Pete gets to the end of the block, he glances back and sees that Mikey is still there. He’s smoking, and his glasses are reflecting the streetlight. He kind of looks like a ghost, his black clothes blending in to the darkness, the smoke wisping around him.

That night, Pete manages to fall asleep before 2am, and he dreams about a ghost Mikey following him around the swamps of Dagobah. He thinks Mikey would appreciate it.  
___

Pete feels like the rest of October is a blur that goes by way too quickly, and that he will remember in snatches and sensations—

He’s supposed to be practicing hard as the fall soccer season comes to a close. This is the season that will most determine college offers, and he isn’t sure if he’s fucking it up or not. Sometimes he’s so focused and he plays amazingly, like it’s fucking magic and he can do no wrong. A few games he scores more than he ever has before, and he feels like he’s in perfect control of his body. But other times his attention comes and goes, and he misses an easy pass, or skips soccer because he’d rather sneak out to the train tracks to watch Mikey smoke and kiss him in the fall leaves. He remembers tension and pressure when his coach tells him that he needs to focus or he will blow it all, that he’s been late too many times and how he isn’t listening to the captain and isn’t doing the plays right a quarter of the time. Although this means he’s doing it right more than he is doing it wrong, he knows it isn’t enough, and that he can do better. Should do better.

He has to balance this with more advanced classes than he’s ever taken before, trying to please his parents who are convinced he’s going to follow in his father’s footsteps and be an attorney. Not all of the classes are hard, but the sheer amount of what he’s expected to do is hard to keep up with, especially when he’s so much happier playing with Racetraitor, or just fucking off in general. He spends too much of the time that he’s supposed to be studying playing his bass, or sneaking out to meet his friends. He doesn’t tell them about the upcoming show, and he pretends he’s going to study sessions on Tuesdays and Thursdays at the local library. Part of him can’t believe that they buy it, and he almost feels bad about it, but he knows it isn’t worth the fight.

Playing with Racetraitor is easy and complicated at the same time. They don’t expect too much from him, since he’s just going to be filling in for one show (but he has a feeling he will likely be asked first anytime they need a bassist). But the songs are fast and frantic and it’s not always easy keeping up with everyone else who has played together so much more than he has. He doesn’t have to go to every practice, but he does anyway unless he has a game. He likes being a part of it, and he plays bass outside of practice more than usual, a mix of covers, Racetraitor songs, and coming up with his own sounds.

Of course he sneaks around with Mikey as much as he can. Mikey meets him in the dead of night in his backyard a few times a week, and they almost get caught once and have to hide behind the tree, pressed close until Pete’s sister Hilary gives up trying to look for the sounds in the backyard and goes back inside. They go to the train tracks behind the school or the soccer office as often as they can sneak away, and Pete has to come up with increasingly creative excuses for all of the classes he’s skipping. Because he still turns in the work and does well on the tests, he doesn’t get too much shit.

Sometimes they kiss, and sometimes they just talk, and sometimes they just sit together, touch thighs or hands or with their heads on each other’s laps. Pete loves the way Mikey plays with his hair and the spark in his eye everytime Pete emerges from the treeline to the train tracks. He feels like he will never forget this feeling in his chest, this need to be close to Mikey the moment he leaves him. How everything new feels exciting and sometimes terrifying. How he feels like Mikey is taking over his brain, even when he’s just sitting next to Pete, reading or listening to music or napping.

But also he feels stretched thin. He wonders if he’s pulling himself too hard, and that he’ll snap back one of these days. But he’s a mix of exhausted and happy and he can’t bring himself to change it.

In the last week of October, the last Sunday before Halloween, he’s laying on Patrick’s floor when Patrick tells him that he’s worried and thinks the bags under Pete’s eyes are getting bigger.

“Have you been sleeping?” He asks.

“I think so.” Pete answers. Then, “Yes. As much as usual, at least.”

“So, not as much as you should?” Patrick asks, sounding cautious, but not judgmental. “You have been really busy. You probably need more sleep than usual.”

“I’m okay, Trick.” He is pretty sure he means it, but he also hates to worry Patrick. “I think I’m happy.” Patrick is probably thinking about last year when Pete almost went off the deep end and didn’t sleep for a week and kept saying he was fine even as he clearly was very not fine, and eventually he had to go to the hospital. He wasn’t institutionalized, but it was close, and now he’s on a regimen of meds and monthly check-ins with a psychiatrist.

Pete knows what that felt like, and it didn’t feel like this. But sometimes Patrick knows him better than he knows himself, and he hasn’t been very careful with himself lately.

Patrick doesn’t look totally convinced, but he lets it drop. He lets Pete ask him endless questions about sound equipment because Pete needs to start looking into his own tech and not just bumming off of Andy or Patrick.

But Pete knows he hasn’t forgotten, because as he’s on his way out, Patrick stops him with a hand on his arm. “Just—call me if that feeling changes, okay?” He says softly, his warm eyes kind of sad. Pete agrees. He says he’s okay, and he hopes it’s true. He tells Patrick he loves him, and tries to go to bed earlier that night.  
___

“Sooooo who’s coming to the graveyard on Friday?” Gabe plops down at their table, even though he doesn’t have the same lunch period as them.

Andy looks at him pointedly.

“I promise it’s going to be better than last year. Invite only.” Gabe adds quickly.

“Good, because that sucked.” Andy responds, still looking suspicious and annoyed. Last year Gabe had attempted to make their annual Halloween graveyard party “A Real Rager”, which had resulted in some rowdy group of dudes that none of them knew taking over everything. They had intentionally destroyed Andy’s tombstone centerpiece and then tried to pay him back with booze. The part Andy is most bitter about though is how they made fun of him when he said he didn’t drink.

“That tombstone was a fucking work of art.” Joe adds, patting Andy’s back fondly.

“It’s just the principal of the thing—“ Andy huffs for the thousandth time, and Pete decides to head this off before they get totally sidetracked.

“So, what’s the plan this year?” He cuts in, hoping it seems smooth and not dismissive.

Gabe is quickly getting excited again. “Going back to the classics—games, booze, with something spooky planned for midnight.” Gabe winks. Pete has a feeling he is underselling it. “But I wanna know some numbers—who’s coming?”

“Patrick is.” Pete adds, trying to think of there’s anyone else that he would know who is coming that Gabe wouldn’t have already talked to.

Gabe is impatient, though, and prompts further as he stares them down. “Anyone else? I mean, I’m sure Pete’s gonna bring Mikey.” Gabe says it so casually.

Pete feels something sprout in the back of his mind, but he isn’t sure what it is. It’s like guilt but not quite, something that makes his jaw feel tight. But Gabe is still waiting for an answer, so he starts to nod absentmindedly, but then he stops himself. “No, it’s Frank’s birthday.” He says slowly, feeling distracted.

“Who’s Frank?” Gabe asks with a brow quirked.

“Uh…just some guy who is friends with Mikey.” It’s a little weird to describe Frank like that. Pete doesn’t remember what happens after that, he has trouble paying attention. He feels tired, and is grateful when Gabe goes back to class and Andy and Joe resume talking about the book they did not read for English class, and thankfully they don’t expect Pete to help them because he has a different teacher.

Later that night, Pete texts Mikey around 8:30, something relatively innocuous about soccer practice. Mikey doesn’t respond for a while, and Pete opens up his phone to read it again. It wasn’t a weird text, but it wasn’t particularly interesting. Maybe there’s just nothing to say.

Around 10pm, he sends another text, this one about how he thinks they should watch Beetlejuice on Saturday. Casual. Pete wonders if maybe Mikey didn’t feel the vibrate.

Around midnight, there’s still been nothing. He and Patrick bitch about Calculus for a while, but nothing from Mikey. He opens his phone and rereads the texts half a dozen times. Each time he does they sound so stupid. The more he looks at them the worse they seem. He shouldn’t have sent a second one. But maybe he should send a third.

Around 12:30, the last moment he can send a text without it being too late and seeming too weird, Pete writes “hope your day wasn’t too busy :) “ and hits send. He regrets it immediately. What a stupid thing to say. He might has well have said “haha are you ignoring me don’t worry I’m cool with it”. He considers saying this for a horrible moment, before he throws his phone across the room so he can’t look at it anymore. He’s being so unreasonable. He knows it, but there’s a voice in the back of his head that won’t stop whispering what ifs. What if he did something to upset Mikey? What if something bad happened to him? Who would tell him if that was the case? What if…Pete pulls the blankets over his head and tries not to think.

Of course, all he can do is think, and panic. He thinks about Gabe yesterday. He thinks about how Mikey looked at him the first time Pete went over, how he shifted from foot to foot anxiously. The excitement radiating off of him, and the uncertainty. He thinks about the fear in Mikey’s eyes the night he threw pebbles at Pete’s window. Pete wonders if Mikey will ever invite him to hang out with his friends again, or if Gerard just hates him too much. He had probably been too obnoxious, or not interesting enough. Or maybe something is wrong with Mikey, and he’s sitting here being selfish.

Pete eventually falls asleep, and he feels exhausted when he wakes up, wrung out, and immediately anxious. Pete instantly scrambles across the room and checks his phone. It’s 5:30 in the morning, and he has no messages. This is so fucking stupid, he’s being fucking ridiculous. But what if, what if, what if…

Pete nearly jumps out of his fucking skin when his phone buzzes at 7:12.

_hey! sorry, lost phone under bed last night n just found it. i def wana fckn watch betelgeuse w you sat_

Pete feels all of the tension in his body pour out immediately. He feels so fucking stupid and embarrassed.

Instead of making anything worse, he just says “no worries. maybe i can come over around 7?” Mikey sends him what Pete thinks is supposed to be a happy emoji, but it looks a little obscene, and he actually giggles a bit. It’s fine. Everything is fine. No one has to know where his brain and his anxiety were taking him last night.

Still, he only sees Mikey a few times for the rest of the week, just in the hallways at school as they pass notes mostly about nonsense, and not in their usual places. Pete makes excuses about his classes, about his parents, and Mikey either doesn’t push or doesn’t notice. Because there’s nothing to notice, he reminds himself. He’s just busy.  
___

They get to the graveyard just after sundown. It’s on the edge of town, the lights from houses and churches and shops in one direction, and the darkness of the woods in the other. Gabe found this spot a few years ago, where the biggest mausoleum in the graveyard blocks most of the view from the road, lessening their chances of getting caught.

The next hour or so is a flurry of them setting up, just whoever is closest to Gabe and/or has been roped into doing something. Pete helps Travis set up the booze table, and he and Joe run around throwing toilet paper over the trees. Travis and Gabe are of course setting up the portable speakers, which are an exciting new addition this year. They always let Patrick do the lights because he has a “vision” and is better at color coordination than most of them. Also, he actually thinks ahead about where people would need light most, instead of haphazardly throwing strings of lights around like Pete would do. Andy is protectively guarding this year’s centerpiece, arranging the drinks and snacks obsessively for most of the set-up time. Vicky and Maja do the games, and get annoyed when Joe accidentally eats some of their prizes. Vicky sets up a photobooth with props and the mausoleum as the backdrop, shooing away anyone who tries to touch her vintage camera where it’s set up on its tripod.

This is one of his favorite things all year—all of his friends coming together with their contributions, teasing and laughing with each other. Sometimes he wishes they didn’t let anyone else in, and they just did this for themselves. But once setup is done, they’re all proud, and antsy for people to arrive, and he remembers why they do this. Pete finds his backpack so he can put on his costume, and it only takes about ten minutes. He’s a vampire every year, because he’s kind of lazy when it comes to costumes, so all he does is paint his eyes black, put in some fangs, dribble a little blood, and he’s good to go.

By 10 o’clock, most people have shown up, and Gabe has at least mostly kept his word. There’s about 40 people there, large enough to feel like a party, but not too big that it should be too noticeable. Pete spends most of his time bouncing around, sometimes talking to people, pouring himself drinks or eating candy, and occasionally trying the games, but he has no patience for them.

Around 10:30, his phone buzzes. Mikey. _frank got high and fcking fell asleep_

Pete snorts at that a little, deeply unsurprised. He starts to put his phone back in his pocket, but it buzzes again.

_was thinking abt coming by if yr still hanging out_

Pete stares at it. He feels anxiety rise in his throat, but he stamps it down. He thinks about lying to Mikey for one awful second.

“ya still here” He answers.

cool. see you soon

Pete starts to panic, but he distracts himself by pouring another drink and watching Patrick bob for apples.

It’s one of the most delightful things that has ever happened, and it’s easy to get distracted. Patrick has gotten all determined, even though his face is pink and freezing and he’s getting soaked. It’s funny, because Patrick is usually so reasonable, but every once in a while he gets stubborn. He and Andy are secretly placing bets on how many times Patrick will keep trying, and it goes on for a full fifteen minutes until Patrick bashfully realizes that he and Andy are laughing at him.

“I’m sorry, Trick, it’s just so cute.” Pete tells him between giggles.

“So… _cute_ …” Andy echoes in between his own laughter.

Luckily, Patrick laughs with them, and finally gives up.

Not too long after, Pete sees Mikey crossing the graveyard. Mikey smiles when he finds Pete in the crowd, and he’s dazzled by it. It’s so…confident. There’s no hesitation. He feels so confused when Mikey kisses him. He feels elated and he feels terrified and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Hi.” Mikey mutters against his cheek, taking Pete’s hand. Pete feels stiff and he wants to run away. Luckily, Andy is there and starts relaying to Mikey about the Patrick apple-bobbing fiasco, and it’s nice when Mikey also finds it hilarious.

Mikey asks where the drink table is, and Andy says he’ll show him because he wants to show Mikey the centerpiece he made this year—some elaborate apocalyptic mural. It’s very cool, and Pete is glad there are no bros to destroy it this year. Mikey drops his hand and says, “be right back,” and Pete just nods. He watches Mikey move through the crowd, feeling like he’s in a daze.

“Pete? Hello?” Joe’s voice suddenly bursts into his brain, and Pete makes a hmm? sound in response. He isn’t quite sure when Joe got there, but he’s apparently said a bunch of things to Pete, none of which he heard. Joe’s voice whooshes past his ears. Pete makes affirming sounds until Joe seems satisfied. He watches Mikey push up his glasses and laugh while he talks to Brendon. He hasn’t talked to Brendon in months, but he isn’t surprised to see him there—even though he lives two towns away he always makes it to this party. Mikey is wearing a black denim jacket that Pete has never seen before and eyeliner and he looks fantastic.

Pete watches Brendon walk away back to his friends, and he watches while Mikey starts pouring some orange-vodka-candy corn concoction that Travis made into his cup. Pete feels sick to his stomach. He focuses his eyes on Joe for a moment, as if seeing him for the first time. “Hey, I’m gonna go home, not feeling well. Can you, like, tell people? Tell Mikey?”

Joe looks a little surprised and confused, but he shrugs. “Sure, man. Do you need a ride though, Andy could probably—“ Pete shakes his head.

“Nah, I’m okay. Catch you later.” He turns and heads back towards the road, leaving his cup on top of a gravestone. Joe calls his name, but Pete pretends he doesn’t hear it.

On his long walk home, Pete clenches his fists and his teeth so hard he forgets to breathe a few times. He tries to forget how pleased Mikey looked to see him. He was so… _unguarded_ , and here Pete is, running away and not saying anything like a jackass.

When he gets home, he can hear his parents fighting down the hall. It’s almost 1 am so they must have been going at it for hours. They aren’t screaming, thankfully. But their voices are raised and his mom sounds like she’s been crying. Pete doesn’t know how long he stands at the end of the hallway. He feels like he’s been weighted down. He feels so, so tired. He finally makes his way upstairs, and he’s so exhausted that he has to clutch the banister.

He puts his headphones in, and when he falls asleep he sleeps all night and through most of the morning.  
___

When Pete wakes up, rain is pounding against his window. He listens to wind howl through the trees. Sometimes leaves and sticks hit the side of the house with a slap. He stares at the ceiling and feels no desire to move.

He isn’t sure how long he lays there, but eventually he gets up and checks his phone. He has texts from Mikey and Patrick, asking if he’s okay since he left so quickly last night. He tells them that the candy-corn punch probably made him sick so he had to head out, but that he’s feeling better now. He also has three angry voicemails from Gabe, because he had totally forgotten that he had lines to read during the seance that Gabe had planned to try and summon the witch rumored to be buried in that graveyard. Fuck. He will find a way to make it up to him, but he feels shitty that it hadn’t occurred to him at all.

It takes him a few hours to remember that he’s supposed to go to Mikey’s tonight, and when Mikey asks if he’s still coming, he thinks about it for a while. He thinks about cancelling, but he wants to see Mikey, and if he keeps avoiding him, Mikey will start asking him what’s wrong, and there’s nothing wrong and he isn’t avoiding Mikey. He’s just tired. He thinks that’s probably it. He tells him he’ll be there at 7.

Pete picks up coke, candy, and chips at the gas station on his way over, and he gets there at 7:03. It’s still raining but it’s mostly a drizzle right now. It’s the perfect night to stay in and cuddle and watch a movie, but part of him wishes they were going out and doing something. This feels so casual and intimate. Mikey greets him happily enough, but some of the sureness of last night is gone. Pete hopes that isn’t his fault.

He realizes they are going upstairs to Mikey’s room, which he’s never seen before, and he’s momentarily distracted by being thrilled to finally see Mikey’s room. It’s on the second floor like he predicted, the first room at the top of the stairs. The second level is less crowded, just a few photos on the walls, but when they go into Mikey’s room it has the same compatible chaos as most of the rest of the house. Mikey’s walls are filled with posters—music posters, mostly metal and British bands, horror posters, and some from video games. There’s about three shelves full of what look to be handmade figurines—Pete thinks they might be Warhammer but he doesn’t know enough to be sure. There’s stacks of VHS tapes near the closet. There’s dozens but most seem to have one of two taped on covers, and Pete had almost forgotten about Mikey’s side hustle. Pete wonders if Mikey cleaned his room in anticipation of him coming over, because the bed is made and he doesn’t see very much dirty laundry on the ground, and he has a feeling that Mikey isn’t the most naturally tidy person.

The whole room is so Mikey and so endearing and Mikey is glancing at him through the corner of his eye, and Pete can’t help but smile and tell him, “I love this.” Mikey’s shoulders relax and he pulls Pete over to his bed, where he sits down and Mikey brings over a TV tray with a small TV/VHS in one on top and sets it in front of the bed. Pete pulls out the snacks he brought and lays them out on the duvet in front of them while Mikey pops in Beetlejuice. They settle next to each other on the bed, leaning against the wall.

They’re about a third of the way through the movie, and Pete thinks it’s going to be okay, he can do this, when Mikey asks, “Pete, are you okay? You just seem a little…” Mikey trails off, his mouth twisted uncertainly. Pete’s heart starts pounding and his face feels hot. “And last night you left so fast, it was kind of weird. Did something happen?” Mikey is glancing at him nervously.

Pete sits with this. He doesn’t know what to say. “I’m okay.” He lies, because there’s nothing else to say.

He turns to Mikey and he kisses him, trying to distract or drown the panic in his chest. Mikey kisses him back, and Pete pushes him down on the bed, crawling on top of him. Pete looks down at Mikey, but avoids eye contact, and bends down to kiss him again. Mikey tastes like coke and Pete kisses him frantically, feeling like he can’t breathe. Then, Mikey’s hands on his shoulders still him, pushing Pete back so that they can look at each other. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, his face full of concern.

Pete feels like something has snapped against the inside of his skull. He starts to breathe harder and harder. He feels like he’s suffocating. He sits back on Mikey’s hips and covers his face in his hands. He doesn’t know how to get off of him without just flopping to the side or using his hands, and he doesn’t want to move them, because now his eyes are leaking and he just wants to fucking die, and he can’t breathe.

Mikey just lays there for a little while, and eventually he sits up and eases Pete off of him. Pete is still hyperventilating into his hands. Fuck he wishes he could teleport. “Do you want me to stay or leave you alone?” Mikey asks quietly. He sounds freaked. Pete can’t take it.

“Alone. Please. Sorry sorry _sorry_.” Pete can’t do this in front of Mikey. He wishes he could dissolve. He wishes literally anything would get him out of this. He hears Mikey close the door behind him.

Pete feels like there’s a tornado inside of him. He feels buffeted around and he needs to get out of there, but he can’t just run out, he has to say something, anything to Mikey. He tries to just focus on breathing, and after a few minutes he isn’t gasping anymore. He feels so ashamed and stupid, but he thinks this is as good as it’s gonna get.

“can you come back” He texts to Mikey. He hopes Mikey took his phone. He doesn’t really want to go wandering the house for him right now. Luckily, it’s only a few minutes before Pete hears movement on the stairs. Mikey opens the door, comes inside, and closes it without looking at him. He goes to sit beside Pete, staring at his own knees. He’s so closed off. Pete can’t read him.

Mikey turns to him, and starts to ask “Are you ok—?” at the same time Pete says “I’m gonna go.” Mikey’s eyes widen for a moment, but then shut off again. They’re quiet for another long, awful moment. Pete gets up and heads towards the door.

“If I did something, would you tell me?” Mikey asks. He sounds so quiet. Pete pretends he doesn’t sound sad. It just makes Pete feel worse.

He shakes his head quickly. “It’s just me.” He says. “I promise.” As if that means anything. Mikey probably doesn’t believe him. Pete wouldn’t if it was him.

Pete stops with his hand on the doorknob. He feels some kind of hysterical sound raise in his chest and he chokes it down. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” He tells Mikey, his voice fucked, chancing a glance back at him. Mikey stares at him, his brown eyes blank, and nods. Pete wonders what it means even after he’s out the door.  
___

Pete doesn’t remember anything else until he’s halfway home and he’s calling Patrick.

“Pete? What’s up?”

“Oh, god, Trick. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod…” Pete says it over and over, his free hand raking through his hair and across his face, feeling full of static electricity, like he’s sparking. “What the fuck am I doing? What am I doing?”

He keeps babbling and can’t hear a thing Patrick is saying until Patrick has to scream “PETE!” He finally shuts his mouth with a snap, and uses what willpower he has to keep it there.

“Pete, where are you?” Patrick speaks loudly and clearly, as if Pete won’t understand otherwise.

Pete stops. “Oh. I’m at your block.” Pete didn’t remember skipping a few blocks out of his way, but whatever.

He hurries over to Patrick’s porch and hops up just as Patrick opens the door. Pete stands in front of him, twisting his hands miserably.

“Gabe said he knew I was gonna bring Mikey on Friday night.” Is the first thing Pete blurts out.

“What?” Patrick stares at him, utterly confused. Pete says it again.

“Okay, so, Gabe said you were gonna bring Mikey.” As if it needed to be repeated. “What’s the problem?” Patrick still doesn’t get it.

“No one…has ever said that before.” Patrick just keeps staring at him. Pete is getting frustrated. He needs Patrick to understand what he himself doesn’t fully understand. It all starts to feel futile. Pete sits miserably on Patrick’s steps and puts his head in his hands. He’s grateful when Patrick sits next to him and rubs his back.

“Okay. Let’s try this again.” Patrick says calmly, and Pete focuses on his voice. “You’re freaking out because of something to do with Mikey, yes?” Obviously. Pete nods. “Does it have to do with Gabe?” Patrick asks next. Pete thinks. “I guess not.” He says after a long moment.

“Does it have to do with the party? Or because Mikey ended up showing up?” Patrick tries next.

Pete is not sure what that has to do with anything. “What? No. Nothing like that.”

Patrick sighs. Pete is a little bit sorry that he’s so difficult and basically forcing Patrick into roundabout 20 Questions. “Okay. Were you just with Mikey now?”

“Yes.” Pete answers. He doesn’t know how to elaborate. “I freaked out, Trick. Fuck. Fuck, fuck!” Pete starts saying fuck over and over, digging his fingers into his temples. Patrick gets in front of Pete and gently pulls his hands away so he’ll stop. He hugs him and rubs his back.

“Pete, c’mon, just breathe. Not gonna ask anymore questions right now, just breathe, okay?” Pete does as Patrick says. It’s so much easier when he isn’t the one trying to convince himself to do something. He trusts Patrick more than he trusts himself, for better or worse. “Listen, we are gonna talk about this, but you need to stop freaking out first. Let’s go inside.” Patrick lets go, but he leads Pete inside by the hand.

Patrick takes Pete to his room, and sits him down in the armchair in the corner, which he immediately curls up in as much as possible. It’s his favorite spot in Patrick’s room. He dims the lights, gets Pete a big glass of water, and puts on Louis Armstrong quietly in the background. Pete hugs a pillow to his chest and feels like a fucking child, but he also feels calmer already. He’s so sorry that Patrick has to take care of him like this, but not enough to stop him. Pete is not sure what a sad sack like himself did to deserve Patrick. Like, cosmically speaking.

Patrick settles on the floor across from him, leaning against the bed. “Better?” He asks, and Pete nods.

“Getting there. Thanks, Trick. You’re the best.” He knows he says this all the time. He hopes Patrick knows how much he means it.

About three songs into Louis, Pete asks, “Can I just sit here for a while? Like, you should do whatever you were doing before I got here. If you want.” Patrick watches him for a moment, probably to see if he’s sure, and then nods. “Okay. Let me know if you wanna talk.” Patrick pulls a copy of NME off of his bed and resumes reading from where it was flipped open to. Pete thinks about asking what it’s about, but instead decides to close his eyes.

He isn’t sure how long he sits there, sometime longer than twenty minutes but less than an hour. The less anxious he gets, the clearer his thoughts are, like fog being blown away. “Trick?” He says to get Patrick’s attention, who looks up at him with a “hmm?”

“What if—“ Pete starts, the way so many of his thoughts have been starting this week. “What if this ends, and I can’t handle it? What if Gerard hates me too much?” Suddenly, it feels like all of his worries are gonna burst from him at once. “What if something happens to Mikey?” Oh god, Pete doesn’t actually wanna think about that too much. Plus, there’s something that seems more likely, less like just a paranoid voice in the back of his head. “Or he realizes he just doesn’t like me? People don’t like each other forever. Statistically, most people don’t like each other and stay happy forever. What if I like him forever, but he doesn’t like me? He could just wake up one day and realize he’s been wasting his time on me. Maybe he doesn’t even like me now, but he doesn’t know it yet.” Pete feels kind of choked up, but he pushes through. “What if I’m just too hard to deal with? What if—what if he trusts me but I’m not trustworthy?” He adds, his voice starting to fade.

Patrick has put NME down, and is looking at Pete, his warm eyes pained. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Pete isn’t sure there’s anything to say. But eventually, he says, “Pete, you’ve just never really done this before.” Pete is really stupid because this is the first time he realizes it’s true. He’s dated and he’s hooked up with people, but this is…different. More intense, more terrifying, and more exhilarating.

“What if I fuck it up?” His voice is so quiet now, he’s not sure Patrick can hear him over _Georgia On My Mind_ in the background.

“All of those things are always gonna be risks. Maybe you just need to decide if it’s worth the risk?” Patrick shrugs.

“I guess me freaking out like this is not likely to help anything.” Pete says sheepishly.

“Probably not.” Patrick says, and Pete groans into the pillow he’s clutching. “I’m really not an expert on this, dude. But you two seem to like each other and a lot of the same things and you’re both weird, so why not?”

Pete doesn’t know what to do with that, so he just buries his face in the pillow for a while and eventually Patrick goes back to his magazine.

He spends the night at Patrick’s, sleeping on the roll-up mattress that they pull out of the closet. He’s slept in this exact spot on Patrick’s floor more times than he can count, and he’s grateful not to be alone with his thoughts all night. Patrick reminds him to text his mom so that she doesn’t worry, and they spend the night listening to music and talking, and eventually he falls asleep when they start watching E.T sometime after midnight.

He wakes up too early, just as the sun is coming up, and instead of laying there he decides to walk home. He leaves Patrick a loving note, changes out of the clothes he borrowed to sleep in, and leaves quietly.

Pete is so miserable he can barely remember the rest of Sunday. The only highlight is Joe texting him to hang out, and he ends up coming over to play music together. He has a sneaking suspicion that this was Patrick’s idea, but he doesn’t say anything about it because he’s kind of grateful. He likes hanging out with Joe, and he loves playing music together. Joe doesn’t ask him how he feels or comment on his eyes looking bloodshot or anything like that, just distracts him and makes him laugh.

His mom asks him if he’s okay over dinner, and she says he looks tired. He brushes it off, and just says that soccer and school have been a lot lately. She looks at him critically for a while, and he feels uncomfortable under her gaze, like she’s seeing through all of his bullshit and knows about all of the things he’s been doing that he doesn’t tell her. But eventually she says, “Alright, honey.” Then she kisses him on the cheek and goes back into the kitchen.  
___

Pete is staring out of the window of his last class of the day, European History, halfway through the next week, and he’s so fucking bored because they’re talking about churches in England and he could not give less of a fuck.

He’s leaning against his arms, chin against the cold plastic of his desk, mostly staring out the window, when he spots a figure strolling across the soccer field. He realizes with a jolt that it’s Mikey, probably sneaking out to the train tracks to smoke. Pete’s heart starts pounding. Fuck. He’s being so stupid. He really misses Mikey, he realizes with a jolt. He stares until Mikey is almost to the trees, and he makes a decision.

Pete shoves everything into his bag, and stalks up to the front of the classroom. “I think I’m gonna puke.” He tells the teacher, and then runs out the door before she can say anything to him. He isn’t very worried about it.

Pete fast walks through the halls, because he has learned from experience that if he runs it will just draw more attention to himself. As soon as he’s out the back doors, he has the staff parking lot and the soccer field before him. He ditches his backpack in some bushes because it’s banging against his back and he can’t be fucked.

Then he starts sprinting across the parking lot and the soccer field. The grass is a little wet and he gets kind of splashed with mud but he doesn’t care. Mikey is out of sight now, but Pete knows where he’s going. The air is cold in his lungs and through his sleeves, and he should be wearing a coat, but he doesn’t care. The faster he runs, the lighter he feels.

The patch of trees are hardly woods, they’re mostly just enough to block some sound and the sight of the tracks, and there are so many well-worn paths through them that it hardly slows him down. The trees are rapidly losing their leaves now, and moving from the richness of fall into the misty grey of pre-winter. Just as he’s almost out of the trees, Pete trips on a root and skids noisily through some leaves. When he rights himself, he looks around swiftly and he sees Mikey on the other side of the tracks, standing frozen and staring at him, an almost finished cigarette halfway to his mouth.

Pete’s heart is pounding from the run and he feels flushed. He stares at Mikey, and Mikey stares back. Before he really knows what he’s doing, he’s hopping over the train tracks and heading straight for Mikey. He stops in front of him, staring up at him, and Mikey has lowered the cigarette. He’s just looking at Pete, and his eyes are so intense, something breaking through the blankness like a wave, and Pete can’t stand it. He leans up and kisses Mikey, his hands going around the back of Mikey’s neck and pulling him down. Mikey kisses him back forcefully, and it feels like they’re fighting and kissing at the same time, and Mikey drops his smoke and his hands wind up under Pete’s shirt and in his hair. Mikey is taller than him, but he’s light enough that Pete can lift him. Pete hoists him up and Mikey wraps his legs around Pete’s waist. He walks them back towards a tree and misjudges a little, knocking Mikey harder than he meant to against the bark, but aside from a groan Mikey doesn’t react, he’s kissing Pete so hard he feels like his lips are bruising.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Pete mutters, in between kissing Mikey. Mikey breaks away for a moment, and nods. He’s breathing heavily and he’s touching the side of Pete’s face. Pete still feels sick to his stomach again, but he also feels something like relief spreading through him. His jaw, which has been aching from how much time he has spent clenching it recently, starts to relax. “I’m sorry.” Pete murmurs again, hiding his face against Mikey’s chest. He feels Mikey nod again, his hair brushing over the back of Pete’s neck.

Pete wonders if they need to talk more, but he’s sick of talking, and he’s sick of worrying and he’s sick of the anxiety. He’s sick of stupid shit keeping him away from Mikey, and he’s sick of his stupid self being one of the main reasons. He kisses and sucks on Mikey’s neck, and Mikey groans, throwing his head back, his legs digging into Pete’s sides. Pete presses Mikey harder against the tree, mostly for balance, and Mikey pushes his hips against Pete’s. Pete groans and thrusts his hips up against Mikey’s, who inhales sharply, his hand coming down to inch towards the button on Pete’s jeans. They look at each other for a moment, and Mikey quirks a brow at him. “You want to?” Pete asks, and Mikey nods, his other hand gripping Pete’s ass and pulling him closer.

They get their jeans undone, but the angles are too hard to touch each other at the same time, and it’s not the most stable set up. But when Pete’s hand starts stroking Mikey’s dick, his legs dig into Pete’s sides and his back arches and Pete wouldn’t change it for anything. Mikey reaches up and grabs a branch above his head, helping to steady himself as Pete kisses his neck and starts to jack him off. He’s gripping the back of Pete’s neck and starts groaning here and there and Pete is so turned on it feels like a dream.

When Mikey comes he groans loudly and Pete really hopes there’s no one nearby, and his hips stutter so hard that Pete is knocked off balance and they fall back in the leaves. Mikey’s on top of him, his body going limp, and Pete kisses the side of his face and his neck and whatever part of him he can reach as Mikey’s breathing slowly evens out. Then, Mikey is straddling him and his hand is going inside Pete’s boxers as he starts to kiss him again. The next while is filled with the sounds of rustling leaves, Pete’s groans, and Mikey saying, “fuck, Pete, I _missed_ you,” and it might be ridiculous because it’s only been like four days, but Pete knows exactly what he means. Mikey bites down on Pete’s collarbone and picks up his pace, and it’s not long before Pete is biting down on his forearm to keep some loud and probably stupid sound from escaping when he comes. Mikey laughs at him a little and pulls his arm away gently, kissing him softly through the afterglow.

Afterwards, they’re still laying in the leaves, and Mikey has his arms crossed on Pete’s chest, with his chin resting against them so that he’s looking down at Pete. He’s playing with Pete’s hair, removing leaves as they sneak their way in and/or fall.

“Is it going to be like this a lot?” Mikey asks, picking a leaf off of Pete’s neck. “With us? Running away and running back?” He clarifies, his eyes locking with Pete’s. The way he’s asking it, Pete doesn’t think he is really expecting an answer.

Pete thinks no but he doesn’t dare tell Mikey. Not until he trusts that he can follow through. Instead, he tells him, “I wanna stay here for a while. Let’s stay here.” Mikey nods. He thinks he hears Mikey whisper “okay”, but he’s shifted so his cheek is against Pete’s chest and his face is turned away. It could have just been wishful thinking.

Pete closes his eyes. They stay there until Gerard starts calling Mikey, and Pete is shivering and late for soccer. He feels calmer than he has in days.  
___

Now that sex is on the table, it’s like they can’t get enough of each other. In the next week, they meet at the train tracks a few more times, immediately making out against the trees when they get there. Pete wishes there was somewhere better they could go so they don’t always have to fuck outside, but nowhere in particular comes to mind.

Thursday night the following week, Mikey throws a pebble at his window again. His aim is getting better, Pete notes proudly. Pete meets him in the backyard behind the tree, and decides he’s gonna blow Mikey, since he’s been wanting to basically from the first day he met him. Mikey does his best to keep quiet, but what Pete really wants is to see how loud he can be. Hopefully he can find out soon, because he already likes the little moans that Mikey is trying to hide, and he’s dying to hear more.

He’s just finished, stood up, spit in the dirt, and is about to lean in to Mikey again when he sees something that makes his heart stutter. His kitchen light is on. Fuck. Mikey’s hands are reaching for his pants, his back turned so he can’t see the light, and Pete stills his hands with his own. He nods towards the kitchen, and Mikey looks over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck.” He whispers. “Do you think it’s someone just getting water or something?”

Pete shrugs, swallowing thickly. “Only one way to find out?” He whispers back, feeling shaken. He takes Mikey’s hand and they creep across the grass silently. Pete stays hunched down below the window sill, and when they get close enough he quickly peeks in. His mom is sitting at the kitchen table, her hands clenching a mug in front of her.

Pete drops to the ground, hoping they’re as quiet as he thinks they are. “Not looking good.” He tells Mikey, who is staring at him wide-eyed. “My mom is sitting at the kitchen table, which is not normal.”

“Shit. What should we do?” Mikey whispers back.

Pete knows what he needs to do. “I gotta face her. I’ll text you if I’m not grounded for the rest of the century, otherwise come visit me at my locker in the morning?” Pete asks hopefully, his hand still clinging to Mikey’s.

Mikey nods. “Of course.” He whispers back, and kisses Pete quickly. “Good luck?” He gives Pete a lopsided, sympathetic smile and scrambles along the side of the house towards the road, disappearing into the darkness.

Pete stands up, because there’s no point in hiding now, and goes over to the back door. He takes a deep breath, his hands shaking, and goes inside. His mom doesn’t turn to look at him, which is how he knows that she totally knows. “Sit down.” She says, her voice tight but faking composed.

Still behind her, Pete quickly tries to flatten his hair where Mikey’s hands where running through it. He can’t believe that he was sucking Mikey’s dick like less than ten minutes ago, and now here he is about to sit down at the kitchen table with his pissed off mother. Oh god, what if he has dick breath, and he totally has dirt stains on his knees, oh god, this is not good. He quickly pours himself a glass of water, swishing some around in his mouth before swallowing, desperate to do anything to help his case right now. When he can stall no longer, he takes his glass of water and sits across from her, staring purposefully at the woodgrain.

“Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz” She says, fake-calmly, which is not a good sign. He is glad that she omitted “The Third” but he has to bite back the impulse to roll his eyes. How cliche, using his full name, which is a ridiculous name. But he is in no position to tease her. Instead, he just looks up at her like a deer in the headlights. “This is the third time in the last month that I’ve gotten up and found your bed empty. I know you have trouble sleeping, but this is something different.” She says, staring right through him. “So are you going to tell me what you’ve been doing?”

A million possibilities go through his head. He could tell her he’s just been going on walks or running. Or that Patrick has needed him for something—but no, he cannot use Patrick as a cover like that. Also, she probably wouldn’t believe that. He feels guilty that she’s been worrying about him and already let him slide a few times. Plus, there isn’t exactly a good excuse not to tell her, even if he’s fucking scared for about twelve different reasons.

“Um. Sorry, mom. I guess I’m…” Pete isn’t sure how to finish. Fucking around in the backyard? Not an option. Falling in love? That’s a bit dramatic even for him, and is gonna make him panic again if he thinks about it too much. “…seeing someone.” He finishes slowly, because he can’t think of anything better. He glances up at her quickly, and sees surprise flicker on her face. He’s not sure what exactly she was expecting. He thinks this is a pretty reasonable option, but now might not be the best time to ask what her worst fears about him are. Probably they would involve drugs or something to do with him being crazy.

“Oh.” She says, dropping her composure just a little before she gathers herself again. “So, what’s her name?”

Oh, god, Pete does not want to play this game. What the fuck, why is this his life. It’s so stupid, being left with the choice to either lie or tell his mom that he’s into dudes. He was kind of hoping he would never have to, that they just wouldn’t make assumptions and then he’d just bring home whoever and it wouldn’t be a big deal and they would never have to talk about this.

But he isn’t gonna lie about Mikey, because he has to deal with this sooner or later, and maybe actually having Mikey inside his house and not just in the backyard would be nice. He still feels supremely awkward when he says, “Actually, his name is Mikey.” He wonders if he can donate every single penny he has for the rest of his life to scientific research for teleportation, because he always seems to need it.

His mom just stares at him. He sees the flicker of surprise yet again, and her hands tighten on the mug in front of her. Otherwise, she doesn’t react very much. “Okay.” She says, and Pete thinks this is her way of giving herself more time.

“We just hang out in the backyard for a little while.” He doesn’t elaborate on what they may or may not be doing or how often, but he thinks it’s good of him to offer some information as a white flag.

“I looked in the backyard and I didn’t see you.” She says, raising a brow at him.

“We were just behind the tree. That’s…that’s all. He’s really nice.”

Pete sees the tension in his mom’s face collapse in on her, and she puts her face in her hands, rubbing her temples. “Pete, you can’t worry me like that.” She sounds so stressed and he feels really guilty. “You know I worry.” She says, and he hates it so much that she has to. “I thought—I don’t know, I thought something was wrong, or—I don’t know.” She says again, sitting back in her chair finally, looking at him again.

“I’m sorry, mom. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He stares at the table again, avoiding her gaze.

“I know you’re eighteen and moving out this summer, but—no more of this on school nights, okay? If you wanna hang out in the backyard on weekends, I guess I can’t stop you, but if you are going somewhere else I really wish you would tell me. You have to tell me. Okay? Can you agree to both of those things?”

He doesn’t want to, and he isn’t sure he’s gonna obey her, but he might as well try. “Yes.” He says quietly.

“Also—can we meet him?” Pete stares at her. He should have expected this.

“Uh—I guess? Sure. Sometime.” He isn’t gonna commit to more than that right now. He hopes this doesn’t mean, like, sit-down-meet-the-whole-family dinner like they made Hilary do with her first boyfriend. It had been so fucking awkward, and he has a feeling this would be worse.

“Good.” She says, relaxing a fraction. “I’m sorry, mom. Is there anything else? Or should I just go to my room?” He looks up from the table and makes eye contact with her again. She hasn’t grounded him yet, which he thinks is not the worst deal. Maybe he can get away before she thinks to do that.

“Just a minute—Pete, have you been sneaking around because you’re scared or something? Why wouldn’t you just—“ She looks sad and distressed and Pete stops her because she’s missing the point and he doesn’t want her to feel worse. Also, he’s not sure how much he really wants to talk to her about all of this.

“No, mom, I just—it’s new, I don’t know, I just—didn’t know what to say…” Pete trails off. He doesn’t really want to get into the ‘pretty gay but not fully gay, who knows whatever it doesn’t matter,’ whole thing right now. Or maybe ever. “Are you gonna tell dad?” He asks.

“Do you want me to?” She counters with, and he should have expected that. He thinks about it for a long minute.

“Sure. Yeah, maybe that’s better. Are you gonna tell him everything? I don’t care that much—I just, just wanna know.” Having this conversation with his mom is bad enough, he really doesn’t want to talk to his dad, too.

Now it’s her turn to mull it over before answering. “I’ll tell him about Mikey, but I won’t tell him about you sneaking out. How’s that sound?”

Pete knows an olive branch when he’s offered one, and he nods quickly. This is basically what he had been hoping for. “Sounds good. Thanks, mom.”

“Good night, Peter.” She answers, she’s still a little cold but he thinks that could have gone worse. He goes over and hugs her before he leaves the kitchen. She hugs him back hard.

He texts Mikey as soon as he gets to his room, because he knows if it was him he’d be going crazy wanting to know what happened. “well told mom abt u but not grounded. think its ok?”

The reply comes almost instantly. _wow thats good i guess? you ok?_

Pete thinks about it for a few minutes before he responds, “yeah. i’m ok. can update u more at my locker in the morning ;)” because he still wants Mikey to come see him, and he’d rather update him in person.

_ya i started a guilty mixtape in case u got grounded. might sleep instead of finishing but will have it for u soon. night xo_

Pete stares at the xo and feels all giddy inside. But Mikey isn’t done yet, and his phone vibrates again.

_p.s. thought about that thing you did the whole way home…_

He’ll be at school in like seven hours, and it feels too far away.  
___

In mid-November, Pete decides that they should play kickball on Friday night. It’s gonna get colder and snowy out soon and he always feels claustrophobic in winter. He wants to take advantage of as much fall weather as he can before it’s gone. He calls a game for an hour before dusk at the park with the bear statue, just enough light to play by for a while but not a peak time for other people to be using the baseball diamond.

Andy, Travis, Vicky, and Gabe are easy. Patrick and Joe are harder, but he knows they’ll come through. Maja and Mikey are the hardest though. Maja he figures he can’t do much about, but Mikey is a different story.

First, Mikey tells him “I don’t do sports,” with his arms crossed, and his face saying no way in hell. Pete thinks they could be off to a worse start, but it’s debatable. He isn’t one to shy away from a challenge, though.

So, Pete tries a different approach, and finds Patrick. “Patrick, can you ask Ray if he would be down to play kickball with us Friday night in the park with the bear statue? He should invite them all if he wants, like Frank and Lindsey and Gerard and whoever. We need more people anyway, and then maybe Mikey will come.” Before he sounds like a douchebag that’s just trying to use Mikey’s friends, he adds, “also they’re cool and we should all be friends.” Which is true. Also, he needs to observe Patrick and Ray together, so this is a good cover. Killing so many birds with stones…or whatever the non-animal cruelty option is.

“Are you telling me to use Ray so you can get your boyfriend to play a sport with you?” Patrick counters.

“Yes and no. I’m telling you to use your boyfriend to make the game happen by having more people, and to increase the chances of my boyfriend playing a sport with me.” This is the first time he’s called Mikey his boyfriend, but he is determined to not freak out about it. Luckily, no one points it out, which is helpful.

“Okay, don’t call Ray my boyfriend—yet.” Patrick’s going pink and looking around a bit mortified, as if someone might have overheard and will tell Ray. Pete giggles and mutters a “sorry” but he isn’t very sorry. Despite this, Patrick does ask Ray, who asks everyone else.

It doesn’t take long for Mikey to find out. He confronts Pete at his locker on Friday morning. “I know what you’re doing. Not very sneaky.” He leans against the locker next to Pete’s, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed at Pete. He looks all long and lean and annoyed but amused. Pete wants to lick him, but he restrains himself.

He just grins at Mikey and shrugs. “Oops?” He says, completely without shame.

“Annoyingly, they all wanna play. Lindsey says mostly because she thinks it will be hilarious to watch our dork asses run around for once.” Pete feels triumph bloom in his chest. “I mean, except Gerard, because he’s a fucking hermit these days.” Mikey’s expression darkens for a moment. Pete is a little disappointed about this, but he isn’t sure that getting Gerard to play a sport would do much to gain his favor. In his opinion, kickball is hardly a sport, but whatever. “Anyway, I’ll see you at the park tonight.” Pete all but fist pumps. Mikey starts to leave, but then stops and narrows his eyes at Pete again. “You owe me.” Mikey shoots at him darkly.

“Anything you want, Mikeyway.” Pete grins widely and it’s all he can do to not kiss Mikey right there.

After school, he sneaks into the locker room and steals a kickball, stuffing it hastily into his backpack. It’s not gonna be missed. Then, he and Patrick get pizza before heading to the park. He’s feeling stoked and giddy on their way there, and keeps racing ahead of Patrick and then back, until Patrick finally says, “Dude, I know you have more energy than all of us, but you might want to save just a little bit for this game of yours.” Patrick is so sensible. Pete reluctantly stays more or less by Patrick’s side for the rest of the way to the baseball diamond, but with a serious bounce in his step.

Andy and Joe are already there lounging in the bleachers, which doesn’t surprise him because although Joe will get entire days wrong, Andy is probably the most punctual person he knows. Over the next twenty minutes, everyone else shows up in little groups. Ray and Frank, then Lindsey and Mikey, then Vicky, Maja, and Gabe. Travis is the last to trickle in, his eyes kind of bloodshot but he’s smiling. Maja says she isn’t gonna play, not because she doesn’t like sports but because kickball is a stupid American gym class sport, but after Pete points out that they will have uneven teams otherwise, she agrees with a slightly suspicious “Okay, fine.”

“YESSS! LET’S DO THIS!” Pete yells, causing Ray to flinch, but he’s stoked when Frank joins in with a yell. Because Pete may not be the best planner but he’s not a fucking amateur and knows the drama that can ensue if they pick teams, he had an idea. He borrows Patrick’s beanie, who quickly puts up his hood to hide his head like the freak that he is, and dumps twelve pieces of paper into it, shaking them around.

“Okay, there’s white and pink paper inside for the teams. No switching.” He looks pointedly at Gabe, who always tries to fuck with the rules even if he doesn’t actually care. He goes around and everyone takes a slip of paper in turn. He takes the last one without looking at it and quickly tosses the hat back to Patrick.

They stand in a circle and everyone holds their pieces of paper out. He feels kind of like he’s in a kids movie where they’re all about to face off. He has pink, and so do Lindsey, Ray, Travis, Andy, and Vicky. He’s glad to have Vicky and Lindsey— he knows Vicky has a competitive streak and thinks Lindsey might, too. Travis will probably be more or less useless. Andy is a toss up depending on the day and he has no idea about Ray, but he doesn’t have the highest hopes. Maybe it’s good that Gerard isn’t here, as there is high risk of Pete showing-off. He needs to remember to not be too competitive though, since playing varsity soccer does give him an edge. Vicky plays volleyball and Gabe used to play tennis in, like, middle school, but otherwise they’re not the most athletic bunch.

They flip a coin and the other team is kicking first. Pete is the pitcher and Mikey decides to go first, staring Pete down like he’s determined. Pete rolls a slow ball because he’s not a douchebag (most of the time), and Mikey kicks it directly at him. He even has to jump out of the way to not get hit. After he’s out of the way, he whips his head back to look at Mikey, and sees that he’s bolting towards first base. Pete is fucking thrilled. Mikey’s running the same way he was when Pete saw him run in gym class, arms back and skinny chest pushed forward, and he loves it. He forgets the teams and cheers for Mikey, and Vicky throws the kickball so it hits Pete in the back of the head and he starts paying attention again. Once he has the ball back in his hands, he looks over towards first base. Mikey is out of breath from the short run and is standing with his hands on his knees. Pete winks at him and turns back to pitch for Frank, who is bouncing up and down on the home plate.

They play for an hour or so, and it’s the most fun Pete has had in weeks (fun that doesn’t include having sex with Mikeyway). They all actually try and pay attention but no one cares about winning, which makes it fun. Multiple times the game gets stalled by them chasing each other far out of bounds. Pete’s team is winning, but it’s close. Travis never gets the ball when it goes past him in the outfield, but he does manage to kick it when they’re up to bat. Vicky is lethal with tagging people out, and Pete thinks she’s even holding back. Ray tries really hard but is not very coordinated, so it’s kind of adorable. Mikey’s beginners luck doesn’t really last, but he seems entirely unfazed by striking out twice in a row. Frank is the real engine of the other team, dude just seems to have so much fucking energy and is willing to run way more than the rest of them aside from Pete. Gabe and Travis keep chasing each other or throwing the ball at each other even when it’s not their turn and only stop when they knock Patrick over and his hat falls off, which makes him really indignant and they actually feel bad. Pete and Joe catch each other’s eye and giggle behind their hands when Patrick isn’t looking.

The game is winding down and it’s Pete’s last time to kick, so he decides to go all in. He stares at the ball with singular focus, and Gabe pitches quick and a little off to the side, but Pete goes for it anyway. He kicks it high above all of their heads with a loud, hollow thunk, and doesn’t stop to see how far it goes. Frank in the outfield dashes after it, but Pete thinks he can make a home run. He hits first and second base easy. When he gets to third, he sees Frank somewhere behind him, but he knows he can make it. He’s halfway to home plate when Frank screams like a banshee and fucking tackles him so hard they fly off to the side and tumble over a few times, landing in a painful heap with Frank on top. He’s still holding the ball, which he uses to hit Pete on top of the head, and gasps, “Ow. Got you. Ow. I win….ow.” Pete echoes the “ow” and feels like all of the wind has been knocked out of him.

Pete and Frank start laughing despite the sharp pain increasing as the adrenaline wears off, and before they know it Gabe runs over and plops on top of Frank, screaming “CRUSH PETE PILE!”, and then Lindsey does the same (minus the screaming), and Pete is actually getting crushed at this point when Mikey just sits on top of her, perched like a weird tall bird. “Our team wins!” He declares bouncing up and down to the protests of the others, unconcerned with the fact that Pete’s team still had more points. Lindsey shoves him off and gets up and they all help each other untangle themselves.

“Dude. What the fuck.” He says to Frank after he and Mikey pull Pete up, looking down at himself. He’s got a big grass stain on his back, his pants’ knee is ripped and fucking hurts, and he has a smear of dirt on his face. Frank, who was already wearing jeans ripped at the knees, is bleeding from one of them, but doesn’t seem to care at all.

“Fucking schooled you motherfucker!” Frank cries triumphantly, punching the air repeatedly, and punching Pete’s shoulder once so hard he almost gets knocked off balance again. “Ow, fuck, you are gonna pay for that!” Pete screams as Frank dashes off in the opposite direction. Pete chases him and they run around until they can’t anymore.

Everyone else have reached their running quotas a while ago, and they have all gathered under the bleachers by the time Frank and Pete wear themselves out. Pete collapses heavily between Mikey and Travis, leaning his head against Mikey’s shoulder. “Frank hurt me.” He says pathetically, looking up at Mikey with puppy dog eyes.

Mikey just pats his thigh and says, “Welcome to the world of being friends with Frank: defined by having more injuries than you used to.”

Pete tries not to read into the fact that Mikey just referred to him and Frank as friends, but something about it feels kind of true. He looks around at everyone hanging out. It felt kind of awkward at first, but kickball is a great icebreaker, and they aren’t just sticking to their existing friend groups. Gabe, Vicky, and Frank seem to get along extremely well, and Lindsey, Ray, Andy, and Patrick are all talking together. Maja, Joe, and Travis are laying side by side, staring up at the sky and sharing a joint. Everything feels fucking great and Pete feels like he could move mountains. He smears the dirt on his face on Mikey’s sleeve, which earns him a yelp and a slap. He just giggles happily.

Gabe produces a jumbo bottle of vodka, and Ray happens to have a jug of orange juice in his backpack (Pete wonders if this is normal or if he somehow predicted the need for a chaser), and they take turns passing everything around. It’s dark now, and they light a candle in the center and waste the night talking about nothing and everything.

At some point he leans over to Mikey and asks, “Do you think Gerard would have fun if he was here?” Mikey answers “yes” almost immediately. Pete kind of regrets asking, because Mikey looks kind of sad and uncomfortable. “Maybe next time.” Pete says quickly, and Mikey shrugs. “Yeah. Maybe.” He looks at Pete and kisses his cheek and the discomfort goes away again. “I had fun.” He tells Pete, and he gets that triumphant feeling in his chest again. Pete nuzzles Mikey’s cheek like the sap that he is, and goes back to watching Ray and Patrick across the circle. They’re sitting cross-legged next to each other, not touching, but talking excitedly. Ray uses his hands a lot, and Patrick is gripping his middle and grinning widely, which Pete knows means that he’s happy.

It’s almost eleven by the time they start to shiver in a way that the vodka can’t stave off, and they give in and call it a night. They all go their separate ways, and Mikey walks him home even though it’s a few blocks out of his way. He and Mikey make out in the backyard again for a while, sticking to his mom’s rules for the time being.

When Pete gets to his room after a quick shower, he’s so worn out and warm feeling that he sleeps well for once.  
___

Pete fucking loves being on stage. He feels electric, like there’s a current humming under his skin. He loves the feeling when the songs are really tight, and he gives it his all. A couple of times a song he looks over at Mikey, who is at the front of the crowd, right by the edge of the stage. He seems to be enjoying himself, even letting go and dancing around with Frank for the last few songs. Sometimes Mikey makes eye contact with him, and Pete can only hold it for a moment before he has to look away or else get too distracted.

Sometimes, people get really mad at Racetraitor shows. Especially when they play their last song, which is called “White Genocide Is the Only Way”, and Pete gets that it sounds offensive, but the song is actually historical accounts of government-sanctioned racism, with the word white replacing offensive racial slurs. So, it’s kind of weird how mad it makes people, when it should really just make them wake the fuck up. Pete thinks it’s kind of cool that they have such an explicitly political message and there’s no question what they’re trying to get across. He thinks if he had a band that he would probably make it way too much about his stupid feelings, and he isn’t sure what that says about him.

All in all, it’s not too dramatic of a show for them. During the last song, two dudes flip them off and leave, some people pull faces, and one person shouts “booo!” but that’s all. Really pretty mild, all things considered. It’s kind of funny playing with this band as the only not white person who has ever played with them so far, but he tries not to overthink it. Sometimes it’s better not to dwell on those things too much, or he starts to feel too weird and alienated.

He has only been to this venue once before, and he decides that he likes it. It’s called The Violet Room, and there are shades of purple everywhere. It’s in danger of looking tacky in a few years, but right now it looks awesome. It’s about forty minutes from their town, so there’s not many people he knows here, which is kind of nice. It’s easier to focus.

Pete is sad when it’s over. He’s still so full of energy that it feels like he could do it all over again, even though playing powerviolence is no easy task. He’s fucking giddy when he hops backstage with the rest of the band, high-fiving Andy even though it probably makes them look like total dorks. They agree that it was a great show, and debrief for a little while—they all stumbled before getting in sync during the fourth song, but they were pleased with the first and last song, etc. They thank Pete for filling in, and then they all clap for him which makes him want to sink into the floor but also feel very fucking pleased at the same time. Then the rest of the band starts discussing their “message” and their next shows, and since Pete is just a fill-in, he just starts packing up his stuff. Plus, he really wants to find Mikey.

Pete leaves his gear backstage because they’re gonna load it up after the show, and heads back to the floor. He has some beer in his backpack and he wants to ask Mikey and Frank to go drink in the alley with him. God, he can’t wait to find Mikey. It only takes a few minutes to see him leaning against the bar, all tall and long, and Pete wishes he could push Mikey down on the butcher-block bar and crawl on top of him.

Frank is eyeing the bar menu, perhaps formulating a plan to get some booze, and only turns when Pete is almost at them. Frank bounces towards him and high-fives him as well. “Dude! That was awesome. Do they have CDs? I wanna thrash to that for the next, like, six hours.” Frank gives a sample of his thrashing, and Pete tries not to crack up, because it’s kind of fucking adorable. Frank is such a little punk.

“Yeah, you could ask Andy? They don’t have a merchtable yet but I’m sure he could get you one.” Pete gestures towards backstage where the rest of the band is still debriefing.

“Yeah, Frank, you should go get a CD.” Mikey prompts, poking Frank in the arm.

Frank looks back at Mikey, and then looks at Pete again, and snorts. “Oh, right, that. See you guys later!” He speeds away purposefully.

Pete looks after Frank for a second, then turns back to Mikey. “Huh, I was gonna ask if he wanted a beer, but his loss I guess.” He grins and leans against Mikey, still feeling all energized and vibrate-y.

“That was great!” Mikey says brightly, and Pete beams. “Now let’s go drink in the alley, motherfucker.” Mikey says, grabbing his hand and heading for the door at a quick pace.

Mikey totally has more thoughts on the show, too, and starts listing off some of the highlights, like the breakdown in the 3rd song, how he thought the last song was hilarious but sad, and how he liked the part where Pete jumped off the amp (he had secretly been hoping Mikey would notice that, but also it was just fun). Once they’re outside, Pete leads them around the side of the building to the dead-end alleyway, and tosses Mikey a beer. They each crack one open and start to drink.

The night air is cool and crisp and it feels good against his hot skin. Pete leans against the scratchy brick and looks up at the dark sky as he and Mikey start talking about the kinds of bands they dream about playing in. Mikey has been thinking about Britpop lately, but also The Misfits, which Pete is entirely unsurprised to hear. Pete isn’t sure. He wants to play something fast and full of energy and beautiful at the same time. He isn’t sure what that would be.

He’s almost done with his beer when Mikey suddenly drops his and turns to Pete, his face intense. For a split second Pete thinks something bad has happened, but then Mikey smiles and pushes him roughly back against the brick, settling in in front of him. Pete is instantly on his page. Mikey leans in and kisses him rough and messy, his hands in Pete’s hair, and Pete drops his own beer with a slosh. He cups Mikey’s ass and pulls his hips up into him. He groans into Mikey’s lips.

Mikey’s being rough with him, and the brick is cutting into him a bit, but it feels fucking amazing. Anytime he pushes up against Mikey, Mikey slams him back against the wall, and Pete has never felt this kind of strength from Mikey. He’s really fucking into it. Pete is getting hard fast, and Mikey is digging his nails into Pete’s back as Pete desperately pulls Mikey as close as he can, starting to push his hips against Mikey’s thigh. Mikey puts an arm across Pete’s chest and pins him there, pulling back and looking at him.

Mikey smiles, his eyes glinting. His voice sounds so serious and dangerous. He leans into Pete’s ear. “The way you’d hang your head back with your mouth open, fuck, Pete, I wanted to straddle you right fucking there.” Then, Mikey starts palming his dick and Pete groans and his head falls against Mikey’s shoulder with a _fuck_. “One of my favorite parts was also thinking about doing this almost the whole time.” Mikey tells him, smirking.

Then Mikey drops to his knees and starts undoing his pants as Pete watches him, his heart thundering in his chest. Once he gets them undone, he pulls them down so they are hanging out around Pete’s thighs. Then he looks up at Pete, and places his hands on the top of Pete’s boxers, pausing. “Can I?” He asks, and Pete nods a little too vigorously but it doesn’t matter because Mikey starts pulling his boxers below his hard dick. Pete moans as the fabric brushes over him, and as Mikey’s hands circle behind his bare thighs. He’s breathing so heavily now, his stomach coiled in anticipation.

Mikey glances him at him for a second, his face like right in front of Pete’s dick, and it’s _so_ hot. He leans forward and starts running his tongue along the head of Pete’s dick, and Pete snaps his head back so hard he hits the bricks but he doesn’t care. Mikey is teasing him now, his tongue circling the head, his lips slipping over it a few times but taking his sweet time with it. Pete has to hold himself back from thrusting forward, and he knows Mikey is doing this on purpose.

Then what feels sudden, even though he also feels like it’s been forever, Mikey’s wet lips slide down Pete’s dick, taking him as far into his mouth as he can. Pete moans and gasps, placing his hands on Mikey’s head because he has to do _something_ with them. Mikey is moving lightly, and his mouth is so warm and wet and it feels so good. It takes them both a few minutes to relax, and there’s a slight scrape of teeth here and there, but eventually Mikey starts a slow, intentional rhythm, his lips sliding up and down so smoothly. Pete bites his lip to keep from moaning and threads his fingers in Mikey’s hair, curling into the dark strands.

Mikey’s hand moves from Pete’s thigh to the base of his dick, his lips and hand meeting. Pete alternates between throwing his head back and trying to relax his neck to look down at Mikey, which usually makes him groan and tilt back again. He can’t help being in this weird pattern of looking at Mikey and then getting overwhelmed by it. All the while Mikey starts to move his head and his hand faster, and Pete feels heat building in the base of his spine.

“Fuck, Mikey, fuck.” Pete groans, his hips wanting so badly to move, but Mikey’s other hand is pining him in place and Pete is keeping himself there, desperate to do anything Mikey wants. “Mikey, I’m gonna come, like, _soon_ , okay?” He is shocked at how many words he can choke out. He sounds so breathless and hopefully he doesn’t sound too stupid, but Mikey doesn’t seem to mind. He gives Pete a fucking thumbs up, and if Pete wasn’t about to come his brains out, he would be laughing so hard right now. The fact that he’s about to come in Mikeyway’s mouth is enough to have him lose his final ounce of control, and his hips twitch and he comes with a loud moan, his hands in Mikey’s hair pulling just a little. Mikey sucks him through it, which makes Pete moan louder and swear, and after a few more seconds he pulls off and kisses Pete’s dick, which is also fucking hilarious.

Mikey looks up at him and swallows in a quite pointed and exaggerated way. He stays on his knees, looking up at Pete as he slumps against the wall with his pants around his thighs, his breathing so heavy it’s embarrassing. Mikey is panting too, and he looks really pleased with himself. Pete takes deep breaths in an effort to come back to himself, all the while staring down at Mikey. “Yep. Just like the faces you made on stage.” Mikey quips, an evil smile on his face.

Pete shakes his head, and grabs Mikey’s arm to help him get up. “Fuck you.” Is all he has to say, without any heat behind it. Mikey smiles and leans against him again, his hands snaking between the two of them to tuck Pete back into his boxers, placing a kiss on Pete’s neck. As Pete starts to recover, he notices Mikey’s hard, too, and pressing into his side, his hands still running all over Pete’s side and back.

Pete starts to reach for Mikey’s pants, but he shakes his head. “Nah, that’s exactly what I wanted. And, there’s something hot about getting just you off.” Pete thinks vaguely that Mikey might have a thing for being in control, and Pete is not going to complain in the least, all of these options are great in his opinion. He can find a way to get Mikey back soon enough, he’s sure. Pete nods and instead slips his arms behind Mikey’s back, pulling him in and kissing him hard. Mikey’s mouth is still kind of wet. He tastes obscene as Pete shoves his tongue into Mikey’s mouth.

Mikey makes a pleased sound, and they make out for a while longer. It’s a little messy and a little lazy, and feels really nice. Eventually, they stop kissing and they’re just hanging side-by-side against the wall. Pete cracks open another beer for them to share. Mikey has his fingers casually looped in the top of Pete’s tight jeans as they talk.

“I wonder if Frank got his CD.” Pete muses aloud.

“Oh, yeah. He left because I told him I was gonna blow you at the soonest opportunity I got.” Mikey says it with zero shame, and Pete fucking cracks up at that. There’s a feeling in his chest that is weirdly similar to pride.

“You did?” Pete prompts, a wicked smile on his face.

“Yeah, I was just watching you on stage, and Frank was standing next to me, and I said ‘I’m gonna blow Pete ASAP’.” Pete is laughing again because it makes so little and so much sense to him that Mikey would just casually say things like that aloud.

“I love how precise you are.” He says, leaning in to kiss Mikey again.  
___

Loading up the gear at the end of the night doesn’t take long. Frank is somehow still bouncing off the walls, darting back and forth to help them. Mikey pointedly takes a few cables one time, and informs Pete that he brought Frank so that he doesn’t have to do physical labour.

Andy has his brother’s van and is going to take the gear back to the practice space tomorrow, so he just drops Pete and Mikey off in front of Mikey’s house.

It’s getting colder now, and Pete feels a little gross from the show. He’s looking forward to a long shower at home, but he’s also standing outside Mikey’s mostly empty house—Mikey’s parents are out of town for the holiday weekend visiting Mikey’s aunt.

Pete wonders about coming inside. He wants to ask if he can stay, but he’s too nervous about it. They haven’t spent a night together yet. In addition to how much that would mean letting Mikey into his fucked up headspace, he’d also feel really bad if he kept Mikey from sleeping. So instead of asking, he kisses Mikey long and deep, his hands holding either side of Mikey’s face. He holds on for a little while, trying to absorb as much of Mikey’s presence as he can, so he’ll feel less lonely on his way home. Mikey’s hands are trailing up and down his back, and it feels nice and soothing.

“Thanks for coming tonight, Mikeyway. Call me tomorrow?” Mikey nods, and Pete kisses him again. There’s a moment where Mikey opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but then stops himself and kisses Pete again. Pete almost decides to just bring it up, it can’t be that bad to ask, but then Mikey says, “Better go check on Gerard, he was in a mood when I left.” And he loses his nerve. He nods and Mikey says, “See ya.”

He does his best not to sigh wistfully as he watches Mikey head up the stairs and disappear into the darkness inside. It’s only once the door is shut that Pete turns and starts down the block. He’s a few houses away when he hears a screen door swing open with a bang and Mikey’s voice calling his name.

Pete whirls around, already jogging back, hopping up the stairs to where Mikey is standing in the doorway. “What? What happened?”

Mikey is somehow more pale than usual and Pete has a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Something is wrong with Gerard.” He sounds deadpan and panicked at the same time, and it’s a terrifying combination. Mikey turns and rushes through the house, knocking a lamp to the ground with a smash. Pete hops over it and rushes after Mikey, taking the basement steps two at a time.

As soon as Gerard’s room is in view, Pete feels his panic rising rapidly. Gerard is slumped on the bed, and there’s more vomit than Pete has seen in his life. It’s on the floor, it’s in the bed, and some of it’s on the fucking wall. The room smells horrible, and Pete’s heart is thudding rapidly against his chest. He wonders how long Gerard has been like this. His skin is sallow and he’s drenched in sweat. He isn’t moving.

“He’s breathing.” Mikey answers the most important thing Pete was wondering. He’s kneeling in front of Gerard, pushing his hair away.

“Mikey, we can’t—we gotta call an ambulance. We don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“I know, I know. Fuck, he’s probably just drunk, but fuck, maybe he took something…” Mikey is rocking back and forth, gripping Gerard’s hands.

“Just stay with him, I’m gonna call.” Pete’s fingers are already rapidly working at his phone. He has to add, wishing he had time to be reassuring and tactful, but he doesn’t, “Make sure if he pukes that he doesn’t choke on it.” Mikey just nods, breathing so rapidly Pete is starting to worry he might hyperventilate as well.

It doesn’t take long for Pete to relay the situation to the emergency operator, and of course they are asking him more and more questions that he can’t answer, about how long and what happened etc, etc. Pete does his best to keep his cool because he’s the only one who can in this situation, and he really just hopes he doesn’t fuck something up. He can’t imagine the terror Mikey is feeling right now, watching someone he loves so much in this situation.

They tell him to stay on the phone, but he doesn’t have much else to say so he kneels down next to Mikey and just tries to be a comforting presence. Gerard hasn’t moved, but Pete sees his chest still rising and falling. Mikey’s staring at Gerard, his face wet, and Pete wishes there was something else he could do. A few minutes later, they tell him to go outside so that he can wave down the ambulance.

He hurries out the front door and it’s not long before he hears sirens screaming gradually louder. Without really thinking, he fucking runs into the street, waving his arms wildly. They see him though and pull over, bringing a stretcher with them.

Once the paramedics are in the basement with Gerard, Pete pulls Mikey aside and takes his hands, trying to get his attention even though Mikey is turning and trying to watch Gerard where the paramedics are buzzing around him, preparing him for transport. “Mikey, Mikey, listen, this is important.” Mikey looks at him finally, but it’s like he’s in a daze. “Listen, you’re gonna go in the ambulance with Gerard, and I’m going to follow as soon as I can. But you need to think about what Gerard might have taken if it’s not just alcohol, and every time you think of something, you need to tell the paramedics.” Mikey nods, and Pete just hopes his words are getting through to him.

The medics are lifting Gerard on their stretcher and it’s time for them to go. Mikey and Pete follow closely. Just before Mikey climbs into the ambulance with them, he turns to Pete. “You’re gonna come?” He asks, his voice tight and strained. Pete’s heart feels wrenched in his chest, and he wishes he could climb in with him.

“Of course, as soon as I can, I promise.” Pete reiterates, hugging Mikey tightly but quickly. “Is there anything I should bring, or—” Mikey immediately answers, Pete sees the thought dawn on him. “His desk, he keeps most of his pills in the top right drawer, or maybe under his bed.” Pete nods, because it’s the least he can do, and helps Mikey into the ambulance. The doors close and the sirens start screaming again, and before he knows it he’s totally alone.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

Pete feels shock more than anything else, but he quickly has to think of his next steps. How is he going to get to the hospital? He feels like running is his only option, he doesn’t have time to wait to try and find someone to give him a ride. It’s not exactly close, but it’s not out of the question. He almost jumps out of his skin when someone behind him calls “Hey!” and he turns so fast that he almost loses his balance.

There’s a girl coming out of the house next door. It takes him a beat longer than it should to realize that it’s Lindsey. He forgot she lived next door. “Hey.” Pete breathes, so thankfully to see someone who also cares about Gerard and Mikey.

“What the fuck happened?” She’s looking between him, the open door of the Way house, and down the street. He figures she head the sirens.

“Gerard. He—I don’t know. I think he OD’ed on something. It might just be alcohol, but I don’t know. He’s alive, and he and Mikey are in an ambulance. Can you drive me to the hospital?”

Lindsey claps a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. Pete realizes that was a lot of information to drop on her, but he doesn’t know what else to do. Sometimes the truth is just a lot. She nods quickly though, and Pete is glad he doesn’t have to ask again. “Yeah, of course. Right now? Like, do you need to do anything first?”

“N—hold on, yeah.” He almost forgot to check the desk. Pete darts back inside and down into Gerard’s room. It looks less bad without him in the middle like a grotesque center piece, but it’s still pretty bad. Some detached part of him is sad to see that at least a handful of drawings and potentially a whole sketchbook are ruined. He somehow avoids the vomit and finds a plastic bag that’s mostly empty aside from some crumpled papers in the bottom. He scoops everything into the bag from the desk drawer Mikey mentioned, not wasting a second to look at what they are. He feels invasive enough as it is. He can only find 3 pill bottles under the bed, and one of them is just Advil, but he takes them all anyway. He glances around the room and spots one more on the bedside table.

He vaguely thinks of checking the bathroom, but Mikey didn’t mention it, and he wants to go as soon as possible. He closes the basement door on his way out. He feels like he should. He washes his hands quickly in the kitchen, because he feels gross all over and at least it’s something, and rushes back out the front door.

Lindsey isn’t out there when he gets back, but she comes back within a minute and is now wearing shoes and a coat. They get into her rusted, sky blue Corolla, and suddenly all Pete has to do is sit in a car with someone he doesn’t know very well and try not to freak the fuck out. He wonders if he should tell Lindsey more. He wonders if they should call people. He wonders if Mikey’s phone still has battery if he needs to call him. He doesn’t know what else to do, and all he can think of are these pointless-seeming logistics.

Lindsey puts on music at some point, but it’s the radio and she keeps having to change the channel because stupid radio jockeys keep talking for way too long and/or the music sucks, and eventually she turns it off again. She’s gripping the steering wheel really hard. Eventually, she asks, in a voice that’s full of reluctance and so uncertain, “Can you…is there anything else you can tell me?”

Pete doesn’t know where to start or how much to say. She probably wants to know if Pete thinks he’s gonna be okay, but Pete can’t tell what he thinks. He tries not to think about the way Gerard’s face looked like the life had been sucked out of him. “It, um, looked bad when we got down there.” He doesn’t want to lie, but he doesn’t want to freak her out too much. “But his breathing was steady, I think?” He is so out of his depth with this. He’s taken first aid classes for soccer, but because they think mentioning the existence of drugs or alcohol to teenagers will instantly cause them to become addicts, there has been little to no instruction on overdoses.

“He couldn’t have been there, like, too long? Mikey probably left around 6 with Frank? And it’s not even midnight yet? But I didn’t see him before we left, so I don’t know what he was like earlier…I think if he seemed really bad maybe Mikey would have mentioned it. Or stayed?” Pete can’t help ending every sentence like it’s a question.

Lindsey nods. Her eyes are watery but she’s keeping them firmly on the road.

“Gerard was my first boyfriend, y’know.” She tells him quietly. Pete is surprised, he had no idea. “He was 12 and I was 11.” She adds. “He used to draw pictures of me as a princess, except I ruled over a land of fire people who burned everything they touched, which was really cool but kind of sad. I thought he was so smart and amazing.” Pete can hear in her voice how much she cares about Gerard. He wishes he could do something to comfort her.

“Do you know people like that? People you love so much, but who seem to hate themselves?” She almost chokes up on the word love, but she pushes through in a shake-y but determined voice. “And you can’t blame them, because the world is a fucked up place?” Lindsey glances at him, and Pete swallows thickly.

“Yeah. I do.” He thinks of how so many of his friends seem to be holding on by a thread, like how fucking glazed Travis looks half the time. Pete knows it isn’t just weed, and how he notices but never talks to him about it. He thinks vaguely of his mom, and how sad she seems sometimes. For a moment, he wonders if Patrick would ever describe him this way during his bad times.

“Too many.” She concludes, and Pete nods along. She goes back to fiddling with the radio, and when she cries quietly for the rest of the drive, he hands her tissues every once in a while.

They go to the wrong waiting room at first, and when they finally figure out which one is the right one, it’s on the other side of the hospital.

When they get there, there’s just a handful of people around, and one of them is Mikey, sitting in a corner, looking like he saw a ghost. He jumps up when he sees them, and Lindsey hurries ahead of Pete to wrap him in a hug.

“Any news?” She asks, still clinging to Mikey, who is clinging back, his face pressed into her shoulder.

“No—not really.” He answers. Pete doesn’t know if this is a good or bad sign. “Paramedics think it’s not just alcohol.” He adds, letting go of Lindsey.

His fists are clenched and he isn’t looking at either of them. Lindsey looks at Pete, and he looks back helplessly. Pete gently opens one of Mikey’s fists and takes his hand, and his grip is so tight it almost hurts. They sit down with Mikey in the middle, and they wait.  
___

It’s about 8am when Frank shows up in the hospital hallway, crashing around the corner, and Pete can tell that he must have just woken up and rushed here as soon as he saw his messages. He’s wearing pyjama pants and just a t-shirt underneath a bulkier coat. “Where is he—how—what happened?” Frank splutters as soon as he sees Pete.

“He’s okay. Mikey’s in with him now, but he hasn’t woken up yet. He’s going to, but it might not be for a few hours. They said that it would be good for him to rest for awhile.” Pete explains.

Frank’s face is the picture of agony, and Pete feels so sad for him. “What did he do?” Frank asks, wincing like he hates himself for it.

“They don’t think he meant to.” Pete hopes it’s true at least. Frank’s shoulders relax just a small fraction. “Just, like, a ton of vodka, and he took too many sleeping pills probably because he forgot he had already taken some. But it wasn’t enough that it seemed intentional. Mostly it was the vodka, but it wasn’t a good combo.” He continues as Frank nods robotically. “At least, that’s what they said.” He adds unnecessarily, not really used to delivering information with this weight.

“Fuck. I would have been here sooner, but I didn’t wake up, my phone was off, and when I rolled over this morning and plugged it in—Fuck, Mikey tried to call me so many times—” Frank breathes, his voice increasingly choked up so Pete can barely make out the last words. His face is getting all screwed up and he looks like he’s going to cry.

Pete doesn’t know what to do, but before he knows it he reaches out and pulls Frank into a tight hug. “I’m sorry.” Pete tells him, rubbing Frank’s back, and then Frank really is crying, clutching Pete’s shirt and sobbing into his shoulder. He had never noticed they’re the exact same height. His shoulder is getting wet, and Pete feels like his heart is breaking as he holds Frank. “It’s okay, he’s going to be okay.” He reassures Frank as much as he can.

“That stupid motherfucker, I’m going to fucking kill him.” Frank pulls back eventually and sniffles, wiping his face ungracefully. “Thanks.” He mumbles to Pete, who nods. “Is anyone else here?”

“Lindsey drove me here, and she left around 5 after they told us he was stabilized. We’re supposed to call her when Gerard wakes up.” Frank nods, staring past Pete and he isn’t totally sure Frank heard him.

“Can I go in?” He asks hopefully, eyes returning to Pete.

“Yeah, I was just getting us coffee. I’ll get you some, too. He’s there on the left, room 820.” He points.

“Thanks.” Frank says again, and hurries down the hall towards the room.

After Frank disappears from view, Pete continues his way towards the coffee machine he saw back in the waiting room.

He takes his time fixing the coffees (3 sugars for Mikey, 1 sugar 1 milk for himself, and he just brings along 2 of each for Frank). Pete is secretly glad that Mikey and Frank will have time alone for a few minutes before he gets back. He is trying to feel like he isn’t intruding, since he and Gerard have had approximately three interactions. But he feels like they need him right now, and that’s more than enough.

He feels exhausted and like they’re stuck in a terrible waiting game. Every time they ask, the doctors say nothing has changed and that he will wake up on his own and they should just be prepared to wait a while. Pete can’t help the pessimistic voice in his head, whispering paranoid possibilities to him.

When he gets back, Frank and Mikey are sitting on either side of Gerard, each holding one of his hands. This makes Gerard kind of look like a weird bird-human with their wings spread, and it would be funny if it weren’t so sad. Pete passes out their coffees, and mixes Frank’s for him so he doesn’t have to let go of Gerard. He takes a seat next to Mikey.

“Frank says we should go home.” Mikey says as soon as he’s sat down.

Pete nods, keeping his face neutral. He thinks it might be good for Mikey to have a break, but he would never suggest it unprompted. “What do you think?”

Mikey just keeps staring at Gerard, and doesn’t say anything. Eventually, Frank cuts in, “I can call you as soon as he wakes up. And you said your parents got an early flight and will be here around 10.”

“He’s gonna need you later just as much, if not more than he does right now. It might be good to get some sleep.” Pete offers, hoping he isn’t overstepping. He’s taking the fact that Mikey isn’t flat out saying no as a possible sign that he does want to leave but feels conflicted.

“But you’ll be alone.” Mikey says finally, eyes on Frank.

Frank gives him a small smile. “It’s okay. I always have things to talk to Gerard about.” Even though the circumstances are shit, Pete thinks there’s something nice about that.

Mikey is quiet for so long that Pete thinks maybe he’s decided to stay and the conversation is over. He’s just starting to relax into his seat when Mikey finally speaks. “Okay.” Is all he says.

Frank looks a little relieved, probably having his own guilt about being out of the loop for so long, and Mikey really does look like shit. He fishes a keychain from his pocket and hands it to Pete across the bed. “I drove my mom’s car here. You can take it and just bring it back when you come back later.”

Pete nods. He likes having jobs to do. Take care of Mikey, take care of the car. He can definitely do the latter, and he will try his best with the former. Mikey stands up slowly. He looks at Frank for a while, and Frank stares back, and then they both stare at Gerard. Eventually, Mikey leans down and rubs the top of Gerard’s head, pressing his lips to his clammy forehead. He then leaves the room quickly as if he won’t be able to bring himself to if he doesn’t get some momentum. Pete mutters a “bye” to Frank and leaves too.

Pete leads the way to the car, and Mikey follows him in a daze. Once they’re in it, his hand stalls before turning the key in the ignition. His muscles twitch one, two, three times before he realizes he doesn’t know where they’re going. Pete says, “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Mikey nods. “Me neither.” He looks so tired, Pete just wants to wrap him up right then and there.

“Where do you want to go?” He asks. Mikey thinks for a moment. It seems like it takes a lot of effort, and Pete waits patiently.

“I don’t think I want to go home. Yet.” Mikey says eventually. Pete thinks this makes sense. He remembers the scene in Gerard’s room. Neither of them are up for dealing with that right now, and he also doesn’t know how they would rest knowing what was waiting for them downstairs.

“We can go to my house.” He offers. His parents will probably be awake, but he does not give a fuck right now. It might be a bit weird, but they will have enough sense to realize that any badgering will have to wait until later. While they were waiting for news last night, Pete called his mom to tell her where he was and what was going on, and sent her a few updates since, so at least he won’t have to explain when he gets there. Mikey nods, and that’s all the answer he needs. Pete starts up the engine and pulls out of the spot.

Mikey is quiet the whole way to Pete’s house, and Pete needs most of his mental energy to focus on driving anyway, because he feels fucking wrung from the inside out.

The streets are just starting to come alive and Pete figures it might be almost 9 by now. The sun is bright, and the whole thing makes Pete feel so dissociated he can hardly stand it. It would have been less weird if it was still dark and dead out, if the world had just stopped moving for a while. But no, he’s driving through the suburbs and he has to pay attention to not hit any minivans or Tauruses, with his semi-catatonic boyfriend in the passenger seat, about to possibly meet his family for the first time, all because said boyfriend’s brother fucking OD’ed last night. Life is so fucking weird.

When they pull up to Pete’s house, Pete can barely remember the drive there. He shuts off the engine and looks at Mikey, giving his hand a quick squeeze before he gets out. Mikey doesn’t move for a minute, and Pete thinks this will probably just be the theme of the day, Mikey forgetting himself and Pete waiting for him.

Aside from Mikey crawling through his window one time last week, Mikey hasn’t been in his house at all. He had been bringing Pete the mixtape he promised, and Pete was pleased to see that Mikey could scale the tree to the top of the porch, whose roof leads to his window. Just as he had been hoping. That night feels like forever ago now.

When they get in the front doorway, Pete gestures to the stairs directly ahead of them. “My room is the first one on the left when you get to the top. I just, maybe should check in with my mom first, but I’ll just be a minute.” Mikey nods, and looks up the stairs, and looks back at Pete, and then back at the stairs. He starts climbing them and Pete is sad to leave him alone even for just a minute.

He goes to the kitchen first, because she’s usually drinking coffee around this time. He’s right and he’s glad he doesn’t have to go looking for her. “Hey.” He says softly, trying not to startle her.

She looks happy to see him. Relieved, maybe. “Oh, you’re home.” She gets up quickly and comes over to hug him, and it’s so nice but almost too much. Pete sniffles into her shoulder while she rubs his back. “How are they?” She asks, and Pete appreciates that she cares about people she has never met.

“Gerard is stable, but still asleep at the hospital. Mikey’s here, he went upstairs. He’s…tired.” Pete says vaguely. He knows his mom doesn’t need, like, a clinical breakdown of everything, so he leaves it at that. “We’re just gonna sleep for a while, okay?” She nods and lets go of him, and he can feel her mom-worry seeping through the air, and half-expects her to start poking at the bags under his eyes.

“Of course. I’ll make some food and leave it in the fridge if you two are hungry later. Tell him…something nice from me, okay?” Pete nods. He goes over to the sink and pours two glasses of water. He’s on his way out of the kitchen when he turns back for a second.

“Love you, mom.” He tells her.

“Love you, too, honey.” She smiles at him, and he gets out of there before he breaks down.

When he gets to his room, Mikey isn’t there. For some reason he instantly feels scared, but less than ten seconds later Mikey appears in the doorway again. He must have just gone to the bathroom, which is logical, Pete now realizes.

Mikey closes the door behind him, and takes the glass of water that Pete offers. “Your mom ok with me staying here?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah, totally. She said there will be food later if we want it.” Mikey nods.

“I’m just gonna go wash my face, be right back.” Pete says. Mikey nods again.

As he’s washing up, Pete looks into the mirror for a while. He looks like shit. He still has last night’s show on him. His eyes are bloodshot. The pink in the front of his hair is starting to fade back to the bleach, which always turns out too brassy in his dark hair. He rinses the parts of him not covered by clothing, and towels off.

When he gets back to his room, Mikey is sitting on his bed in just his boxers. “I couldn’t wear those clothes anymore.” He explains. Pete understands. He cant wait to pull his own off. Between the show and the hospital, they feel all wrong and gross.

He strips down to his boxers as well and gets under the covers on the other side of the bed. At first, Mikey just sits there, and Pete touches his shoulder lightly. “C’mere.” He says softly. Mikey gets under the blankets, facing him with his arms curled up by his chest. Pete throws an arm over him, and guides Mikey closer. He settles against Pete’s chest, and presses his face into Pete’s shoulder.

They’re both quiet for a while, and Pete wonders if either of them are actually going to be able to sleep.

“He used to be worse, you know.” Mikey tells him quietly. He sounds so sad that Pete aches with it. “Last year was worse. I try really hard to be there for him. He feels so much, and that’s hard, yknow?”

Pete takes off Mikey’s glasses because they were going askew, and sets them on his bedside table. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just listens. He makes sure the blankets are covering Mikey’s bare shoulder.

“Like, that’s what makes him Gerard, but it also seems to make it impossible for him to be okay. But, I thought—I hoped—I thought it was getting better.” He scoots in as close as possible to Pete, his face pressed fully against Pete’s chest now, like he’s trying to hide. His voice ends up muffled and Pete starts to rub his back.

There’s another long silence, and Pete thinks over what Mikey has said. “Maybe it is still getting better. Sometimes it’s not linear, yknow?” Pete hopes this is helpful. He thinks he believes it, but he knows how hard it can be to accept when it seems like things are too fucked up. “Like, this part is really fucking awful, don’t get me wrong. But it doesn’t negate everything that came before it, I guess.”

Mikey nods into his chest. “Yeah. I hope so.” Pete puts a hand on the back of Mikey’s head and starts to run his fingers through it. “I’m just…” Mikey trails off, like he isn’t sure. “I’m so _tired_.” He finishes finally. Pete kisses the top of his head. “I’m so tired.” Mikey repeats, choking up and shoving his face harder into Pete’s chest, a ragged sob escaping him. “I’m so tired and I don’t know what to do. I need him. I need Gerard and it’s like he doesn’t even care sometimes.”

Pete’s chest gets all wet but he couldn't care less. He holds Mikey until he cries himself out. Pete’s own face is wet by the end, and he hides his tears in Mikey’s hair. “I know, I know.” He tells Mikey over and over, because he just wants Mikey to feel like he isn’t so alone. Pete knows that Gerard cares, but he doesn’t think this is really a talk-things-out kind of time, it’s more of a cry-about-how-fucked-everything-is time.

Pete doesn’t know how much time passes, but eventually Mikey stops crying. He wipes his face and blows his nose with the tissues next to Pete’s bed, and settles back against Pete again. “Thanks.” Mikey tells him quietly, his voice shake-y and hoarse from crying. Pete nods and snuggles against Mikey, rubbing his back soothingly. He doesn’t even really feel like he’s done very much, but he isn’t going to say that to Mikey right now. Even if the last sixteen hours have been fucking awful, he wouldn’t have chosen to be anywhere else.

Eventually, Mikey’s breathing becomes even and steady, and Pete is pretty sure he’s fallen asleep. Pete tries to keep his mind blank so he doesn’t start freaking out, and he must fall asleep eventually but he doesn’t remember it.  
___

A shrill ringing sound pierces the air, and Pete startles so hard he wakes Mikey up when the phone had failed to. He feels so groggy and disoriented for a moment, and he can tell he isn’t the only one, cause Mikey is rubbing his face and muttering “what?” Then he realizes what’s happening and his eyes dart open widely, and he almost falls out of the bed trying to grab his phone from his pants on the floor. He flips it open and shoves it to his ear, and Pete sits up, his heart thumping in anticipation.

Mikey says “Hi, mom.” and “Hmms” and “Mmhmms” and says “Pete’s still” but that’s all Pete really gets from most of the conversation. He thinks if it was really bad he’d be able to tell though. Finally, Mikey says, “Okay. Love you too” and snaps the phone shut. He rubs his eyes sleepily. “She says Gerard isn’t awake yet, but they think he will wake up any time now, based on some readings or something. So, I should probably go back.”

“What time is it?” Pete asks.

Mikey checks his phone. “Two-thirty.” Mikey is still rubbing his eyes. “I feel like shit still. But I guess we slept for a few hours.” He looks back at Pete, who is still laying there trying to catch up, the blankets twisted around him uncomfortably. Mikey leans down and kisses him, and Pete touches his cheek. Mikey leans his forehead against Pete’s and takes a few deep breaths. “I think I should go alone. Like, I gotta deal with my parents, and with Gerard when he wakes up, and…yeah.” Pete gets it. He actually kind of thinks it makes sense, too, because he doesn’t want to be one more thing for Mikey to worry about, and it’ll be different with his parents around. He’s only met them briefly, and has barely said two words to them. Now isn’t the time to be hovering around, probably.

He nods, jostling Mikey a little. “Yeah. That’s cool. Can I make you coffee first? And are you good to drive?”

“Yes.” Mikey answers instantly to the coffee. Then he thinks for a second and says yes again. “After coffee.” He clarifies.

Pete pulls out a shirt that Mikey can borrow, and finds some sweatpants that are long enough for him. Mikey looks strange in his clothes, like someone who doesn’t know how to dress themselves, the fit all wrong. But it’s definitely better than putting on the clothes he was wearing at the hospital, so it’ll have to do.

Downstairs, Pete makes coffee. While it brews, he looks in the fridge and finds some breakfast casserole thing that his mom has made. There’s a note on it that says “For Mikey and Pete” and he feels a rush of warmth for her. It’s a little bit weird that no one is around his house right now or if they are they’re totally quiet in their rooms. He wonders if she got everyone to make themselves scarce. Whatever has caused it, Pete is grateful.

He puts two pieces of his mom’s concoction on a plate, warms it up, and makes toast as well. He sits the food down in front of Mikey with two forks, and they share the plate, sitting close. He’s really hungry, which probably makes sense given that he hasn’t eaten anything since before the show yesterday, and shoves a whole piece of toast in his mouth when he gets up to pour them coffee, but Mikey is having trouble eating. Pete doesn’t blame him, and he doesn’t push. Mikey does start in on the coffee, and afterwards he manages to eat about half of his share of the food. It’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing.

Pete fixes a travel mug filled to the brim with coffee for Mikey, and walks him to the door. They hover there for a few minutes. Pete feels reluctant to part, and Mikey mirrors his hesitation.  
Eventually, Pete says, “Let me know how it goes.” And then after a beat, “When you get a chance,” because he doesn’t want to do anything to add to Mikey’s stress. Mikey nods quickly.

“I wish you could ride with me back to the hospital, but I guess that would defeat the purpose because you’d have no way to get home.” Mikey tells him after another moment of silence. Pete wishes he could, too, but Mikey is right. He does the first and only thing he can think of, and he grabs his scarf, an old woollen plaid one, off of a hook by the door and drapes it over Mikey’s neck. He shrugs and hopes it isn’t too silly. Mikey tries to smile and it kind of fails, but he leans in and hugs Pete hard. The travel mug digs into his back but he doesn’t mind.

Pete watches through the glass panel in the door as Mikey goes down the walkway. When Mikey gets into the car, he just sits there. Pete thinks about going out if he sits there any longer, but eventually Mikey starts the car and pulls out. Pete watches until he can’t see him anymore.

He has no idea what he’s gonna do with himself for the rest of the day. It’s unlikely he will go back to sleep, and he feels like a caged animal in his house that now feels big and empty and lonely. He paces through the downstairs rooms for a good ten minutes, then heads back to his room. Maybe he will call Patrick. When he gets there, his phone is ringing though, and he hurries to pick it up before it goes to voicemail. He doesn’t have the number registered to his phone and he doesn’t recognize it. “Hello?” He says, not sure if he will be relieved or annoyed if it’s just spam.

“Pete?” A familiar voice asks, but Pete can’t place it right away.

“Yeah? Who’s this?” He asks.

“It’s Ray. Sorry, Patrick gave me your number.” Recognition clicks in, and Pete relaxes a little, sitting on his bed.

“Oh, yeah, no problem. What’s—how’s it…what’s up?” He stumbles awkwardly because he doesn’t know what to say and all of the questions seem so loaded.

“I’m just going over to Gerard and Mikey’s. Lindsey and I are gonna clean Gerard’s room.” Pete’s stomach twists uncomfortably at the memory, but he is glad they aren’t dancing around the elephant in the room. “Was wondering if Mikey was still with you?” Ray adds after Pete doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“That’s a good idea. I’m sure—it’ll be really appreciated, I’m sure.” He says after a delay. Pete almost offers to go help, but he feels kind of sick at the thought, and maybe it’s better that it’s just people who are close to Gerard, since they’ll have to be sifting through so much of his stuff. Then he remembers Ray’s question, and tells him, “No. He just left.”

“Oh, okay. How’s he doing?” Pete doesn’t really know Ray very well, but he thinks he can hear sadness and hesitation in his voice.

“I don’t know. He slept a little bit here.” This is probably the only for sure thing he can provide right now. “I don’t know if you know yet, but Mikey’s mom called like half an hour ago. She said he could wake up any moment, so Mikey went back. That’s good, as far as I can tell. Mikey—he’s holding it together as best he can.” That’s all he has for now.

“Yeah, Frank called us, too. I worry about Mikey.” He says distractedly, but he doesn’t seem to be actually starting a conversation about this. “Thanks, Pete.” Ray says after another beat of silence.

Pete isn’t sure if the conversation is over or not, but he doesn’t really wanna hang up. Even if he feels awkward, it’s nice talking to someone about it. “Yeah, no problem. Let me know if you think there’s something I can do. I feel—weird just sitting here.”

“Yeah, I feel that. We are gonna go visit Gerard after we clean, after he wakes up. Like, if his family is okay with it.” Ray tells him. Then, “maybe we can get pizza afterwards, and take some over to their house?” Pete is grateful for the idea, so he doesn’t just feel like his day is stretching before him endlessly, and it seems like a nice thing to do for the Ways. Pete nods and it takes him a moment to realize that Ray can’t see him.

“Yeah. Sounds good. Thanks. Just let me know, yeah, if there’s anything else.”

“Okay. Take care, Pete.” Ray’s voice is warm and kind.

“You too.” He echoes, and closes his phone.  
___

The rest of the day is not quite as excruciating as he expects, but it’s close. He talks to Patrick on the phone for a while and texts with Mikey sporadically (he tells Pete around 4pm that Gerard has woken up). Otherwise, he tries to read a few comics, tries to play the bass, and tries to watch TV with his mom, but nothing can hold his attention for more than about twenty minutes. Mostly he just wanders around the house and the backyard.

He goes to the pizza parlor to meet Ray and Lindsey around seven-thirty. They tell him that Gerard is awake, but he’s staying for another night, and that he’s been feeling wicked nausea since he woke up. He isn’t talking much because of it, but he did try to talk to them some. Mikey has also told him most of these things, but it’s nice to hear in person and more details.

“I think he’s embarrassed.” Lindsey says after they’ve eaten, pushing crust around on her plate. There’s no judgment in her voice, it’s just matter-of-fact and sad-sounding.

Pete nods. “I get it. It sucks when your worst problems become public because they get so bad…” He shudders, he hadn’t thought about it like that yet. Gerard must feel so…violated to have all of these people all up in his intimate business.

“I guess we just, like, give him space around some things but also let him know we’re here for him?” Ray sounds hesitant but also very wise, Pete thinks. But then Ray lets out a frustrated sigh and says, “How do you do that, exactly?” None of them are really sure.

They don’t talk too much for the time they’re together, but Pete still finds the companionship comforting. They get to the Way’s house around 9:30, carrying pizza, snacks, and drinks to last them for at least two meals. They aren’t home yet, but Lindsey has a key so they leave everything on the kitchen table.

They hug Lindsey goodbye before she goes back inside her house, and Ray offers him a ride home, but he likes walking so he declines. They hug too, and it’s nice. He never realized how tall Ray is because he doesn’t stand up very straight, and no one looks tall next to Gabe and Travis. But dude is still tall, especially compared to Patrick who is fucking tiny.

Pete’s feeling exhausted, and he’s looking forward to sending Mikey a long text before falling asleep, hopefully for the whole night. As he’s walking home, it starts snowing. It’s the first snow of the year, and it’s a few weeks late. He’s still sad and if he thinks too much he starts to feel twisted up inside, so he tries to stay calm and uses all of his strategies for keeping his mind blank. The snow helps because it makes everything feel more peaceful, and it’s something beautiful to focus on as he makes his way through the quiet streets. The snowflakes are big and fluffy and they sparkle in the streetlights.

He tries to go to bed early, like around eleven, but he can’t sleep, so he just lays there staring out the window at the falling snow. He’s wearing his most comfortable hoodie—a Guns N’ Roses one he found at a second hand store when he was like fourteen that’s a few sizes too big for him—and he wraps it tight around himself, curling up on his side. He wishes Mikey were with him. His heart still aches thinking about the last 24 hours and how Mikey must be feeling.

Sometime around midnight, just as Pete is finally getting sleepy, he sees a dark shape emerge on the other side of his window, and hears a light _taptap_. He sits up quickly and goes over to get a better look, and realizes with a start that it’s Mikey. Pete wonders for half a second if he’s fallen asleep and summoned Mikey into his dream. Dream or not, he quickly opens the window.

“Hey, come in.” He says once it’s open and he’s helping Mikey through it. It’s not the easiest task, because the porch roof doesn’t line up exactly with his window and you can’t just step through into his room. He has struggled with it on his own, but Mikey is tall enough that even though he has less upper body strength, he manages it more easily, especially with Pete helping him.

Once Mikey’s inside and Pete can get a better look at him, he sees that Mikey still looks exhausted and sad. Definitely more exhausted, but maybe the same amount of sad. He isn’t looking at Pete, instead taking his time brushing snow back out the window from his shoulders, jacket and hair before he closes it. Pete’s so glad to see him. He steps forward to wrap Mikey in a hug, who leans heavily against him, his cheek on Pete’s shoulder. “Hey.” He says in a small voice, putting his arms around Pete.

“What’s up?” Pete asks quietly, worried something worse has happened.

“Just needed a break.” He tells Pete. He sounds so worn out. “Gerard is staying overnight tonight. He’ll come home tomorrow afternoon.” Mikey sighs and lets go of Pete, sitting back on the windowsill and rubbing his eyes. “My parents are freaking out and feeling super guilty and it’s not that helpful. I guess at least it’s good they aren’t mad at him or something.” Pete nods sympathetically. “Anyway, I just needed to get out of the house.” Mikey finishes, making eye contact with Pete for the first time.

“I’m glad you’re here. I was thinking about you.” Pete smiles a little, rubbing Mikey’s shoulder. Mikey gives him a weak smile in return, which Pete thinks is pretty good all things considered.

Mikey’s eyes drop back down again, and his body gets tense. “Can I…you don’t have to say yes, and maybe it would be bad if your parents found out, but I was just wondering—“

“You wanna stay here?” Pete cuts in to save Mikey from the uncomfortable fumbling that he’s doing.

“Can I?” Mikey asks, glancing back at Pete quickly before looking away.

“Definitely.” Pete breathes.

“Thanks.” Mikey says, looking relieved.

Mikey strips down to his boxers again while Pete sets an alarm for 7am, which they decide is probably early enough for Mikey to get back home before either of their parents wake up since it will be Sunday tomorrow.

They settle with Mikey’s back against Pete’s chest and Pete puts an arm around his waist. Mikey’s fingers trail up and down his arm. It’s weird how yesterday Pete was worried about this exact situation, and now he just feels relieved to be this close to Mikey. He feels a little tense and a little anxious, but nothing overwhelming.

They talk a little bit more, but not very much. Pete asks him a few more questions, but it’s clear that Mikey is on the verge of falling asleep. Pete kisses him on the cheek and says “goodnight” but Mikey has already stopped responding, his breathing evening out. Pete feels such warmth in his chest as he lays there. He watches the snow falling outside until he falls asleep some time later, and he only wakes up once during the night for a few minutes. After seeing that Mikey is still there sleeping soundly, he falls asleep again until the alarm goes off.  
___

After that, Pete only manages to see Mikey at school in the hallways and when they sneak away together twice, but Gerard is back home and Mikey doesn’t go anywhere aside from school. Mikey doesn’t say it, but Pete knows he feels like he needs to be around constantly, and that he feels anxious when he’s not home. It’s not sustainable, but Pete doesn’t say anything, just quietly worries about Mikey.

That weekend, Pete’s playing bass in his room, his small amp turned down low, when Andrew calls up the stairs for him, shouting loudly so Pete can hear through his closed door. “PETE! Someone’s here to see you!”

Pete puts his bass to the side and goes to see who it is. He isn’t expecting anyone, but it’s Saturday afternoon and it wouldn’t be that weird for one of his friends to stop by.

Once he’s halfway down the stairs, he’s shocked when Andrew steps out of the way and he can see who it is.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Andrew asks like the shit that he is, and Pete daydreams momentarily about giving him a wedgie like he used to.

Both Pete and Gerard yell “No!” and Andrew holds his hands up and backs away. “Hey, whatever, just a guess.” He says before disappearing back to the basement where he was probably playing Nintendo.

Pete and Gerard look awkwardly at each other, and Pete wonders if this is a mistake. “Hey, uh, do you want to come in?” He asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, sure, thanks.” Gerard says, wringing his hands. His voice is still a little hoarse, Pete notices. He’s in black, baggy clothes, and fingerless gloves that he definitely cut himself—they’re uneven and one is unraveling at the thumb. At least they seem mutually uncomfortable, and Gerard isn’t glaring at him, so Pete thinks he can probably handle this. Hopefully.

“I just was hoping to talk to you.” Gerard explains after he’s stepped over the threshold.

This is the most Gerard has ever said to him, and the first time Pete has seen him since the hospital. It’s really hard to get the image of Gerard in the hospital bed, with Mikey and Frank holding his hands, out of his head. He hopes Gerard doesn’t see it on his face, but Pete worries that he does, because when Pete doesn’t respond he says. “I’m sorry, I can go, I shouldn’t have just shown up like this—“

“No! Sorry, I’m just…surprised.” And a little scared, he thinks but doesn’t say. “We can go in here.” He says quickly, before Gerard decides to try and leave again. After Gerard gets his shoes and jacket off, Pete leads them through the dining room and into his dad’s office. Then he kind of regrets it because it might be the most pretentious room in his house. His dad has a big, expensive wooden desk, and there are law books and classical novels all along one wall. There’s even a fucking globe in the corner. But it’s private and Pete thinks his room would be awkward, so whatever. Gerard barely seems to notice the room, and sits down on a stool near the window once Pete has closed the door behind them.

Pete sits on a chair across from him, and awkwardly stares at the floor. He is hoping that Gerard will make his reason for being there clear, because Pete’s anxiety is starting to run away with him. He wonders if Gerard is pissed at him for something, if he feels like Pete stuck his nose where it didn’t belong, or if something is wrong with Mikey, or…fuck, he doesn’t know.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Gerard blurts, and Pete almost gives himself whiplash because his head snaps up so quickly.

“What?” He chokes out, staring at Gerard. That is not what he expected.

“I was really rude to you. I was worried about Mikey, I didn’t trust you, and I was jealous.” Gerard tells him, using his hands to indicate the succession of things. Pete is not used to people being so precise with their feelings, and he’s still reeling, so he just keeps his mouth shut.

“I thought you might be fucking with him, or that you were just an ass. And while I’m not sorry for being protective of Mikey because he’s more important to me than anyone, there were signs that you weren’t doing that, and I ignored them.” Gerard sighs, rubbing a hand across his face in a way that reminds him a lot of Mikey. “Like I said, I was jealous. Mikey suddenly had this new thing going on and even hanging out with your friends, and I was just—I am still— just stuck. I’ve never been very good at letting Mikey have his own things, and neither has he with me. We’ve always done so many things together, but we’re not the same and we’re not happy when we just do that.” Gerard waves his hands around when he talks, and it’s kind of distracting, but mostly it’s just a lot of information for Pete to process.

“Okay.” Pete says. “Does Mikey know you came over to talk to me?” He asks to buy himself some time.

“No, I was going to tell him when I got back home. I thought he’d probably just worry or be embarrassed or something, but I needed to talk to you.” Pete nods again. Gerard continues, “Also, I wanted to say thanks. Mikey told me everything you did last weekend, and, I just—that was a lot. Thank you.” Gerard finishes, looking awkward again for the first time since he started spilling his guts to Pete.

“You’re welcome.” Pete says sincerely, making eye contact with Gerard as much as he can stand. “I mean, you don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to help.”

“You did. I’m a fucking mess and I need to figure that out and not put so much on Mikey.” Gerard is staring out the window now, like he isn’t exactly talking to Pete. Then he looks back at Pete and says, “Anyway. I just needed to tell you those things. I’m sorry for being a dick. Maybe we can be friends?” Gerard smiles and it’s even more crooked than Mikey’s smile and Pete feels giddiness mix in with his confusion. He has no idea how to be Gerard’s friend, but he’s excited to find out.

“Yeah. That sounds good.” He tells Gerard, smiling widely.

About an hour later, Mikey texts him.

_g says i should invite you to come hang out tonite. which is good cuz i miss u. also wtf did he say to you_

Pete isn’t sure what to say, because although there’s a good chance Gerard has already told Mikey, Pete doesn’t think he should be the one to relay everything. “we talked about why he hated me and why he maybe doesnt anymore”

_he never hated u he was jus bein a dick. so do u wanna come over?_

Of course he tells Mikey “yes”. He feels like a weight he didn’t realize he was carrying has been lifted from him.  
___

Things don’t really go back to normal after that, but feel like they’re moving forward, inching slowly. Mikey starts leaving the house more again, and Gerard does, too, little by little. Pete also spends more time around the Way household now that things are less weird with Gerard. They aren’t exactly friends, and it’s still awkward when it’s just the two of them, but it’s something close.

Mikey tells Pete that Gerard has stopped drinking full stop, but he still might be taking too much Xanax and too many sleeping pills. Mikey worries over this, but he doesn’t say anything to Gerard, because he knows he’s trying really hard. There are days where Gerard is so grumpy he doesn’t speak to anyone, and he still barely leaves the house. But one day he even comes with them to the pizza parlor without Mikey, just Ray, Patrick, and Pete, which a month ago he never would have predicted in a million years.

One day after school when he’s doing his Calculus homework on Mikey’s bedroom floor, Pete walks into the kitchen to get a glass of water. Except Frank and Gerard are in there and it sounds like they’re arguing but they’re standing really close and Frank is holding the front of Gerard’s shirt. Not sure what he’s walking in on, Pete claps a hand over his mouth to keep any sound from coming out and practically throws himself backwards into the hallway and out of sight.

“God, Gee, you’re so infuriating, would you stop this shit?” He hears Frank saying, and Pete watches around the corner. Maybe he shouldn’t, but it’s like he’s watching a soap opera unfolding before his eyes and he can’t look away.

“I’m not doing anything.” Gerard says in a voice that even Pete can tell means that he is totally doing something.

“Stop trying to push me away. I know you think you’re too fucked up, but I don’t give a shit.” Pete can’t believe what he’s hearing. Frank sounds so desperate and passionate, Pete can feel the tension in the hallway. “If you don’t want to kiss me, then don’t kiss me, but don’t not do it because you think you’re protecting me.”

“What?” Gerard says, sounding legitimately confused this time, and Pete doesn’t blame him, that was a lot of double negatives.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Frank asks it slowly this time.

Gerard doesn’t answer, and Pete can’t totally tell what’s going on because they move out of his line of sight. But he has to know, so he peeks his head around the corner further, and he sees Gerard and Frank making out against the stove. Pete keeps his hand clapped over his mouth so he doesn’t make a sound, otherwise he would probably be cheering them on.

As quietly as he can, he rushes upstairs to get Mikey. “Dude. You gotta come see.” Pete whispers even though there’s no way Frank and Gerard can hear them. They sneak back down together and Pete points to the kitchen. Mikey pokes his head around the corner, and then retreats as quickly as Pete had.

“Oh my god.” He mouths, eyes wide. Then they both try to stick their heads around the corner again, Pete’s on the bottom and Mikey’s above. Frank and Gerard are still making out against the cupboards, banging into the doors in their enthusiasm, making funny hollow sounds.

Gerard’s eyes open for a fraction of a moment and he sees them. “What—MIKEY! Pete, what the fuck!” Gerard screams, and the two of them burst out laughing and cheering. Pete even fucking claps.

Frank is laughing, too, but then he throws a roll of paper towels at them and yells, “Do you fucking mind!? Trying to have a moment here!”

“Go to the basement then!” Mikey calls back between laughing.

“No!” Frank and Gerard yell back together, which just makes Pete and Mikey laugh harder.

They eventually get so annoyed that they do retreat to Gerard’s room, though. “Should we feel bad?” Pete asks Mikey once they’ve calmed down a little.

“Nah.” Mikey waves a hand in the air vaguely, his smile huge. “Oh god. That means everytime I sit on Gerard’s bed from now on, I will have to wonder if they’ve had sex on it yet. Then there will come a time where they definitely will have had sex on it. Oh god.” Pete giggles and rubs Mikey’s back sympathetically.

He finally gets his glass of water, and they go back upstairs, but Pete’s so happy and giddy now that he can’t give a fuck about Calculus. He spends his time touching Mikey teasingly, pretending he isn’t doing it on purpose, until Mikey finally throws aside his own homework and crawls on top of him.

As they’re making out, Pete pulls back for a second and says, “Don’t think about Frank and Gerard possibly having sex downstairs.”

Mikey lets out a pained groan. “Fuck you! Do you want me to make out with you or not!?”

Mikey glares at him sitting back and crossing his arms. “Yes, please, I’m sorry!” Pete giggles, trying to coax Mikey back to him.

“Okay, just never say that to me ever again.” Mikey is still glaring, but he uncrosses his arms.

“I won’t, I won’t.” Pete promises, trying to seem sincere even though he can’t stop giggling. He will most likely keep it. At least he’ll try.  
___

At the beginning of winter break, Pete is having a bad time inside his brain. Sometimes it just happens. He’ll just be living his life, going to school, keeping up with soccer, seeing his friends, playing his bass, daydreaming about Mikey, trying not to argue with his parents, watching TV with Hilary and Andrew.

Then, the next thing he knows he starts to feel his skin crawl when he’s around strangers, and he dissociates when he’s out in public. Or even just alone in his room. Every little thing makes him agitated, and he has to bite his tongue to not snap at people over nothing. Worst of all, he can’t fucking sleep through the night, and it makes him feel like he’s a rubber band that’s about to snap.

He knows it’s coming when the first day of winter break he’s grocery shopping with his mom in the late morning, and he’s feeling on edge. Then, some dude bumps into his shoulder kind of hard and doesn’t apologize. It requires an abnormal amount of restraint not to bash the guy’s face with his fist, and the impulse is so intense that it scares him. He feels like he’s cracking apart for the rest of the time at the grocery store. He follows his mom closely and pretends everything is fine.

When it gets like this, he starts to feel like this will be the rest of his life. That he will live his whole life struggling to keep his head above water, treading as hard as he can, and he will always slip underneath once in a while. Sometimes he will see a storm coming, and sometimes it will hit him for no apparent reason. This time is the latter—he can’t identify why it’s happening. He isn’t sure which is worse.

So far, when he feels like he’s going to drown for real, he has always managed to pop back up. But it’s exhausting.

It’s day three, and Pete has barely left his room. He’s pretending he’s sick, because he is, just not in the way he wants his parents and everyone else to believe. They fuss over him enough, in different ways since last year when they finally figured out some of the meds he needed to be on. Mostly now they just ask him about the meds, and not actually about how he’s feeling, or what he’s feeling. He knows they are just trying to help, but he doesn’t like feeling like a clock that just needs the right wires attached. He supposes he is in some ways, but he still resents it.

What he holds onto is the hope that he just needs to wait it out. Well, wait it out and not sabotage himself further. And because there’s not much he can do to himself or others in his room, that’s where he’s trying to stay. At night, when everyone else is asleep, he sneaks out and runs and wanders around for hours, even though it’s fucking cold, because he can’t actually stay cooped up for days on end. He does not have the attention span for that. It’s easier at night when things are quiet and there are few people around, but he wishes he could go into the little patches of woods dotted around, or to the train tracks. Unfortunately, he gets too fucking paranoid so he has to stick to the neighborhood and commercial streets.

He also goes to Dunkin Donuts pretty much every night because it’s the closest thing that’s open 24 hours. Only Patrick knows this, and he’s joined Pete a few times over the years, sitting with him and talking quietly about nothing in particular, or just stroking Pete’s hair while he slumps across the table. Pete doesn’t even like Dunkin Donuts, but he now feels like there are two Petes—one who goes to Dunkin Donuts, and one who goes literally anywhere else. He wonders what the staff think of him when he shows up every few months for a few nights in a row, but never in between.

On night number four, he’s laying in bed around 1am, waiting another hour or so until he can be positive that his siblings are asleep before he goes out. He feels like tonight is the night after the new moon, when the moon is just a sliver in the sky, promising to get bigger. His thoughts have been racing less, and he thinks after a run he might actually be able to sleep for a few hours in a row. It’s taken him years to learn this feeling, and the relief itself is helpful.

One of the few things that helps is spending as much time as possible listening to music in headphones, because he likes the way the music envelops him and blocks out other sounds and thoughts. He usually likes to listen to the same few bands over and over, but it’s not always the same bands each time. Some of his go-tos include: The Misfits and Fugazi, Nat King Cole, Aretha, and Louis, Metallica and Guns N Roses, and Tupac. Probably the worst things he does to himself is just listening to Elliott Smith for so long that he feels like he ceases to exist. Lately it’s mostly hardcore and powerviolence, and the calmest thing he listens to is Bad Brains. He’s finding something soothing about the chaotic energy and discordant sounds.

During his third listen to the same album in a row, Pete feels a cool breeze on his face. He opens his eyes and sits up, almost jumping out of his skin as he sees a dark figure in the window frame. His bedside lamp is on, so it isn’t totally dark in his room, and luckily he quickly can tell that it’s Mikey. He should have known, but it still took him by surprise. Pushing down the scream he almost unleashed, Pete pulls his headphones off and tries to tell his heart to stop fucking thumping.

Mikey is standing on the porch rooftop, and he’s cracked the window open enough for his face to be unobscured, but not enough to crawl through. He waves.

“Hey.” Pete says, his voice full of surprise, almost forgetting to whisper.

“Hey. Uh, can I come in? I don’t have to. But also I won’t stay long if I do.” Mikey shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Casual and fake casual look so similar on Mikey, but Pete is learning. He’d say this is somewhere in between. Pete has no idea what makes sense in this moment. Part of him is thrilled to see Mikey, and that part feels like it’s waking up from a long sleep. But another part of him is also kind of terrified and unprepared.

He thinks for a moment too long, and just as he sees Mikey open his mouth to say something else, he says, “Yeah, totally. Come in.” Mikey doesn’t move right away, like he isn’t yet sure, but Pete goes over and opens the window all the way to help him through. He has limited conversation energy and he doesn’t wanna use it discussing if Mikey should come inside or not.

“Thanks.” Mikey says once he’s inside and the window is shut. For not the first time, Pete is glad that he doesn’t share any walls with his family, so as long as they talk quietly there’s no way anyone will hear them.

Pete nods. “How are you? Sorry, I’ve been…sick.” He wishes it wasn’t winter because Mikey is wearing too many coats, and Pete would really love to reach out and trace patterns on his warm skin. Mikey’s coats are unzipped now though, and he’s wearing a thin, tight t-shirt, of course, so Pete settles for reaching out and running his thumb back and forth on Mikey’s collarbone.

“I’m okay. You’re sick?” Mikey’s brow is furrowed and his head tilted slightly. Pete thinks it might be concern.

“Yeah. More or less.” He shrugs, continuing to stare at Mikey’s chest/neck area.

“It’s—just—last time you were sick, you sent me about fifty texts begging me to bring you soup—sexy soup, as you specified, which I’m still not sure what that means.”

“Cause you bring it to me.” He says automatically. Pete is a little offended, because he has already told Mikey this before, and it’s really quite simple.

“Right, right. Well, you haven’t texted me back for like, two days, and I tried to call earlier to see how you were, but it went straight to voicemail, and I just…wanted to make sure you’re okay, I guess.” Mikey explains, looking down and away from Pete.

Huh. His phone. He doesn’t think he’s plugged it in for two days, and he had kind of forgotten about it. Or, more accurately, he mostly tried not to think about it, and when he did he would just feel stress choking his esophagus. He hadn’t realized how long it had been, and it hadn’t occurred to him that he might be inadvertently ignoring Mikey. “Shit. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” Pete drops his hand from Mikey and looks up at him, just starting to settle into feeling guilty, but Mikey shakes his head quickly.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything, I was just a bit worried. So I wanted to stop by and say hi and see you. Are you okay?” Mikey is looking at him cautiously now, and Pete sees the concern on his face.

Pete thinks for a moment. He doesn’t want to lie to Mikey, but he doesn’t know if he has much to tell him. Or maybe he just can’t do it right now. He hasn’t figured out which it is yet. “No.” He says, and thinks some more. “But I’m going to be.” And even though he feels twitchy with anxiety and exhaustion, and his brain is gonna start screaming at him about Mikey any second now, he knows it’s true.

Mikey nods. Pete is surprised to see how full of expression his face is, and he wishes he could do something to reassure Mikey. Something stirs in his chest, but Pete still isn’t feeling his body right and he doesn’t know what it is. “Thank you for coming. It’s good to see you.” Pete says, some of the tension in his body draining out.

Mikey nods some more, and Pete sees him swallow whatever was coming up. He stands from where he was leaning against the window, and looks down towards the street. “I’m gonna go, but I’m here if you need anything, okay? I want you to know that.” Pete feels like he might cry if Mikey doesn’t leave soon, but it might be a nice cry. He just isn’t ready for it right now.

“Okay.” He says. Then, as Mikey turns and starts opening the window, “Wait. I’m not, like, ready tonight. But if you wanted to come back tomorrow night around the same time, it’d be nice to not be alone.” Pete wishes he had said this better, because he isn’t just trying to get Mikey to kill his loneliness. “With you, specifically. If you want.” Mikey is already nodding, but he isn’t done, just taking a while to get it out. “But I will probably just lay here and be boring and maybe not sleep.” Because he needs Mikey to know what he’s agreeing to so he can worry less about disappointing him.

Mikey smiles, and that something in Pete’s chest flutters. “Definitely. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He reaches out and squeezes Pete’s hand. “Oh, also I made you this.” Mikey’s other hand reaches into his coat pocket, and then hands him a small plastic tape. “See you.” He says again, and before Pete totally catches up, Mikey has climbed out and closed the window.

He gets one more look at Mikey with houses floating behind his head, and then he’s gone. Pete watches him as he goes across the porch roof to the tree and clamber down.

Pete looks at the tape in his hand, and when he sits back on his bed, he unplugs his headphones from his discman and plugs them into the stereo with the tapedeck on his bedside table. He presses play and lays back down.

He expects to hear something morose, or hard and fast, or at least British. He’s pleasantly surprised and he smiles as he hears Cyndi Lauper’s voice. He listens to Mikey’s mix until he falls asleep at 4am, and doesn’t go to Dunkin Donuts.  
___

True to his word, Mikey shows up sometime after midnight the following night. As he’s helping Mikey through the window again, Pete wonders if they’re really as sneaky as he thinks they are, or if his family is just more understanding than he gives them credit for. He might never find out.

Mikey leaves his jacket and shoes by the window. Pete has his tape player on low, partially to distract from any sounds or talking that his family might hear coming from his room, and because he likes having background music. Pete feels anxious and unsure, but he’s happy to see Mikey. He hadn’t realized how much he missed him. His whole concept of time is off—he feels like he’s been stuck in this pattern for weeks, but at the same time it feels like everything has frozen in place, like nothing could possibly be happening outside of his room.

Pete’s wearing his big Guns N’ Roses hoodie again, because it makes him feel safe and warm, and he leaves it on as Mikey takes his pants off, leaving him just in a tight black t-shirt and boxers. He looks so adorable and sleepy and awkward-bird-like in the dim light of Pete’s room, and Pete’s glad he asked Mikey to come back.

Feeling a rush of warmth in his chest, he moves forward and kisses Mikey, burying is hands in Mikey’s hair and rubbing his neck. “I’m sorry I ignored you for a few days.” He says, because the guilt has been sitting in his chest since last night, and he didn’t mean to worry Mikey. Enough fucking people worry about him. Mikey rubs his arms and holds him close, and Pete feels like he’s in danger of crying again, but he is so not ready to let that happen.

“It’s okay. Maybe in the future we can come up with a code, so I know, or something. But we can talk about that later, yeah?” Mikey responds, speaking quietly so Pete can just barely hear him over The Smashing Pumpkins in the background.

He nods. “Yeah. Sounds good.” They settle in on Pete’s bed, laying on their sides facing each other. Pete is still hesitant about eye contact, so he busies himself tracing Mikey’s collarbone and shoulders, staring mostly at Mikey’s chest. Mikey is playing with his hair like he often does, which makes Pete smile a little bit.

He’s just starting to space out when Mikey speaks again. “Do you—do you want to talk about what’s going on with you at all?” Mikey asks, looking at Pete cautiously, like he’s a rabbit that might bolt away at any moment.

Pete thinks for a long moment. He’s not really sure how to explain. “I’m just. Like this sometimes.” Pete says flatly.

Mikey nods but doesn’t say anything, probably in case Pete wants to elaborate further. He’ll try. “There’s no good reason for it. Like, sometimes I’m upset about things or shitty stuff happens with my family or just feeling overwhelmed or whatever, but sometimes…it just happens. I dunno why it happened this time.”

Pete’s voice is barely a whisper when he speaks again, like he’s telling a secret that he’s not even sure he wants Mikey to hear, something he guards close. “It makes me feel like something about me is just fucked up and broken, and I’ll never be able to get away from it.”

Mikey is looking at him sadly and Pete doesn’t know what to do about that. “What helps?” Mikey asks after a long moment.

Pete thinks about this. “I’m not sure.” He starts, still thinking. “Time. People not freaking out about it. Music.” This is about as far as he’s gotten. He looks up at Mikey cautiously, trying to gauge his reaction.

“I’m not freaking out.” Mikey reassures him, his hand still in Pete’s hair.

“Were you freaking out when you didn’t hear from me?” Pete asks.

“I just got nervous about what was happening.” He explains with a slight shrug. “It’s good to understand.” Mikey adds. Pete nods, resting his head against Mikey’s chest because he feels like he needs to hide a little bit.

They fall quiet again for a while after that. Pete wonders if Mikey is gonna fall asleep, and he thinks he might as well, eventually.

“It’s nice to have you here.” Pete tells him after a while, inching them a little bit closer and slipping a leg between Mikey’s so they’re even more tangled than before.

Mikey lets out a sleepy _mmm_ and pulls Pete closer. “Do you think you’ll sleep?” He asks.

“Dunno. I might. You should, though. I’ll try not to wake you up if I don’t.” The next thing Pete knows, Mikey has fallen asleep, and Pete is content to lay there until the tape ends. He doesn’t want to disturb Mikey to flip it over, so he just stays laying there, listening to the wind outside and the quiet sounds of Mikey’s breathing.

They forget to set an alarm and sleep until 9am, which is definitely the most Pete has slept in a while, since he fell asleep about an hour after Mikey did. Still though, Mikey seems like he could sleep another four hours, which Pete is pretty jealous of. His hair is sticking up and he keeps blinking a lot, and it’s really so adorable.

Now, Pete has to go around checking where all of his family members are to figure out if Mikey can sneak out the window without anyone noticing, or if he will need to create a distraction. Hilary is still sleeping, his Dad is gone, Andrew is in the basement, and his Mom is having coffee in the kitchen, which is at the back of the house.

He sneaks back upstairs to report their good luck to Mikey, who has fallen back asleep. Pete is really tempted to let him stay there, but they probably won’t get another chance, and he isn’t sure he would know how to explain Mikey leaving the house later when no one saw him arrive.

He nudges Mikey’s shoulder until he opens his eyes with a groan, looks confused for a moment, and then sits upright quickly enough that his hair flops around. “Oops. Sorry.” Mikey grins sheepishly, reaching for his glasses on the bedside table. “What’s the news?”

“All clear, if you go soon. My mom will likely move to the living room to watch the news in about fifteen minutes, unfortunately.” Mikey nods, barely hiding a yawn. But he gets up and starts putting his clothes and jackets on again (of course Mikey doesn’t have a real winter jacket, just like 4 smaller jackets layered on top of each other).

Just as Mikey’s about to open the window, Pete takes his hand and pulls him back, leaning up to kiss Mikey.

“Thanks.” Pete mutters against Mikey’s lips, and he kind of wants to make out with Mikey right there, but he’s tempted enough fate for the time being.

Then, he has a great idea. “We should go sledding soon.”

Mikey looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Sledding? Like, outside? Do you see it out there?” He points out the window at the snow.

Pete nods with a huge smile. “It’ll be fun. I promise?”

“We’ll see.” Mikey says suspiciously, but Pete thinks he sees the hint of a smile, and has a feeling he’s gonna get what he wants.

“Anyway, when you start using your phone again, text me?” Pete nods and kisses Mikey again before opening the window.

After Mikey has disappeared down the block, Pete plugs in his phone, because he wants to tell Mikey about how his ass is cute when he crawls out of the window, which is the best motivation he’s had in days.  
___

It’s New Year’s Eve when Pete realizes that he’s in love.

It has occurred to him vaguely before that he loves Mikey, but this realization is so clear that he feels completely consumed by it. They’re sledding in the park, and Mikey is shooting down the hill on a saucer, squawking when he falls off and tumbles through the snow. He’s still wearing Pete’s scarf that he’s had for over a month, and Pete knew when he put it around Mikey’s neck that he was never getting it back.

While he’s giggling at Mikey’s screaming, Pete casually thinks to himself, _Wow, Mikey hates the cold, and, like, the outdoors. He must really love me if he’s doing this._

And another voice in his head answers _Well, obviously._

And then, _oh, fuck._

His brain gets stuck on an endless loop of _oh, fuck,_ and Pete does his best to play it cool and not scream.  
___

That night at Vicky’s New Year’s Eve party, he drags Patrick, Joe, and Andy outside one by one because he needs consultation. “You guys, I need to talk to you.” He says seriously. They’re all staring at him, and Pete appreciates their undivided attention.

“I’m in love.” He says after a long moment of silence.

“With Mikey?” Joe asks, and Andy slaps his arm while muttering “obviously.”

Patrick looks annoyed. “And the announcement is…?”

“I’m in love with Mikeyway and I don’t know what to do about it!” Pete says desperately, starting to pace back and forth in front of them.

“That’s so nice.” Joe says a little dreamily.

“Congrats, man.” Andy is nodding staunchly.

Patrick gives him a thumbs up.

None of these reactions are helpful.

“But what am I supposed to do?” Pete asks them exasperatedly.

“I dunno, just tell him.” Joe says all straight-forward-like.

A lightbulb goes off in Pete’s head, and he stops pacing. “Like a grand gesture?” He asks, the grin already spreading on his face.

Patrick groans. “Oh god. No. No one suggested a grand gesture.”

“I need a grand gesture!” Pete yells, definitely not listening to Patrick. “I LOVE MIKEYWAY AND I NEED A GRAND GESTURE!” He screams, throwing his hands in the air. He feels positively giddy now.

“Shh! He’s gonna hear you if you keep doing that.” Patrick scolds, and Pete doesn’t yell anymore but he hugs each of them in turn before bounding back inside.

He finds Mikey in the hallway by the front door and he rushes towards him. “Mikeyway!” Pete declares, grabbing Mikey’s arms and spinning him around.

“There you are. What are you so happy about?” Mikey asks, narrowing his eyes at Pete with a smirk.

“Nothing. I just have a secret.” Pete teases, pushing Mikey back against the wall.

“A secret? Do I get to find out what it is?” Mikey asks, raising a brow. He holds Pete’s hips and guides him in closer.

“All in good time, Mikeyway, all in good time.” Pete croons, leaning in to kiss him.

On New Year’s Day he convinces Patrick to convince Ray to drive his dad’s truck to the Way household with the ladder from Pete’s garage in the truck bed.

Ray agrees to drive if Pete agrees to let him and Patrick leave after dropping him off, AKA he isn’t allowed to give them roles in his scheme. Pete doesn’t tell Ray that he hadn’t been planning on doing anything like that anyway, and pretends like he’s conceding. Ray and Patrick also talk him out of the following ideas: renting a crane, renting a miniature horse and taping a horn to it’s head, paying for sky writing, bringing fireworks, and doing anything to his hair.

Pete waits for 8pm, and then it’s go time. He checks his hair in the mirror. His green bowtie looks fucking great. He’s wearing black jeans with a white button down. Instead of his usual winter coat, he finds an old plaid sport coat of his dad’s that is pretty thick. He hopes that he looks more classic and less kitsch.

He had to check like a million different stores to find a place where he could buy flowers on New Year’s Day, but he has a peach rose clutched in his hands as he sits in the cab of the truck. Patrick is squished in the middle between them, and he isn’t too thrilled about it. Pete leans his head on Patrick’s shoulder. “I’m in love, Trick.” He tells him, positively beaming.

“Yeah, I knew that in, like, November.” Pete can hear the eyeroll in his voice. “But I am happy for you, Pete. Truly. Otherwise, I would not fucking be here.”

Ray laughs on the other side of Patrick, and Pete would normally pout but he’s too nervous and excited. It doesn’t take very long to drive to Mikey’s house, and Ray helps him unload the ladder. Then he and Patrick drive away, and Pete is on his own.

Careful to stay out of view of the downstairs windows, Pete sneaks around to the side of the house where he knows Mikey’s window is. Pete checks himself over quickly, patting his clothes, smoothing his hair down, and taking deep breaths. He sets the ladder up against the side of the house under Mikey’s window and puts the stem of the rose in his teeth so he can use his hands. He pulls a portable tapedeck from his coat pocket and hits play. The soft, opening notes of “Time After Time” start floating through the air, and Pete starts climbing.

Except, when he gets to the top of the ladder it isn’t tall enough, or he isn’t tall enough, and he can’t make it to Mikey’s window. He also can’t yell because A) he doesn’t really want the rest of Mikey’s family coming outside and B) he has a flower in his mouth. Pete wonders if he can get high enough to tap on the window, so he reaches up as far as he can. Just as he’s on his tiptoes, the snow underneath the ladder shifts, and the ladder goes sideways. He lets out a shriek as he falls through the air, his arms swinging about wildly. He hits the ground with enough force to knock all the breath out of him.

“Pete!? What the hell!” Mikey’s voice comes from somewhere above him a moment later.

“Unfff.” Pete groans and tries to wave from where he’s laying sprawled on the ground. He bit into the stem of the rose and it’s kind of gross. He rolls sideways and spits it out of his mouth.

Pete hears some voices coming from the front of the house. He hears Mikey say, “No, no, it’s just Pete, you guys stay inside.” Then he hears Mikey’s mom say, “What? Okay, well, let us know if everything is okay.”

Pete hears the crunch of footsteps in the snow, and he pulls himself into a sitting position so he doesn’t look totally pathetic when Mikey gets to him. “Are you okay?” Mikey asks, but when he takes in the sight of Pete, he starts laughing at him. “What the fuck are you doing?” He asks in between laughing.

“Hi, Mikey.” He says sheepishly. His body is not gonna feel good tomorrow, but he still has enough excitement and adrenaline that his spirits have barely been dampened. Also, he’s thrilled to see Mikey, whose hair is kind of sticking up in the back and there’s a big hole in the abdomen of his black shirt. Pete could stare at him all day. So what if things aren’t going exactly as he planned. “Good thing this snow was here.” He comments brightly, patting the ground. He doesn’t seem to have hurt anything too badly.

Cyndi’s voice is still rising up and twisting around them from where the tapedeck fell on the ground. Pete hits pause and puts it back in his pocket, because the moment is kind of ruined right now, but he will find the moment again if it kills him, dammit.

“Let’s go inside, make sure you didn’t break anything.” Mikey helps him scramble to his feet, and Pete hastily hides the rose in his coat. He’s only limping a little bit as they make their way inside, so it’ll probably be fine. Luckily there’s a few weeks before the indoor soccer season starts up.

He waves a bashful hello to Mikey’s parents, who luckily take it all in stride. Neither Mikey nor he mention that he fell off a ladder trying to crawl into their house, so they just pretend he slipped outside.

Then they go up to Mikey’s room, and after Mikey insists on Pete assessing if anything hurts too badly, he finally seems to relax. “Okay, now tell me what you were doing.” He says, a suspicious look on his face. But Pete sees a grin underneath it.

“I have to tell you something.” Pete says seriously. He leads Mikey over to the bed and sits him down. He pulls the tapedeck out of his pocket and hits play again, setting it down on Mikey’s desk. Cyndi starts up again.

_Lying in my bed  
Hear the clock tick and think of you_

Mikey’s face slowly becomes more serious, his eyes dark and intense. “What is it?” He asks.

“Mikeyway,” Pete starts, grinning so widely he probably looks stupid but he doesn’t care. “You’re amazing. I can’t fucking get enough of you.” Pete pulls the rose from his jacket and hands it to Mikey, hoping he ignores the teethmarks.

“Okay. Where’s this going?” Mikey asks, and he looks nervous.

“I love you.” Pete tells him, taking Mikey’s hand and pulling him up. “I’m in love with you Mikeyway, and it’s fucking incredible.”

“Oh. That” Mikey mutters, blushing wildly.

Pete looks at him expectantly until Mikey says, “I love you, too, but you already know that, don’t you?”

“I do?” Pete asks slightly bewildered, cocking his head to the side but never taking his eyes off of Mikey.

“Really? What do you think a mix that starts with “I Drove All Night” and ends with “Just Like Heaven” means??” Mikey asks him incredulously.

Pete giggles. “That you love me?” He guesses, just to say it again.

“Shut up.” Mikey says, the blush intensifying.

He pushes Pete down on his bed and straddles his lap, kissing him. “I love you.” Pete tells him in between kissing Mikey.

“I know.” Mikey responds, and Pete wonders if it’s meant to be a Han Solo reference. Then, “god, you’re such a sap.” But his grin is huge and Pete feels it in every part of his body.  
___

At the end of January, Pete’s alone in his hotel room that he’s sharing with three other dudes from his indoor soccer team, so it’s kind of gross but he doesn’t care that much. Everyone is at some party, so he is probably gonna be alone for hours. He kind of hates the indoor soccer tournaments, which pretty much suck aside from the actual soccer aspect.

He’s usually always in for a party, but he doesn’t like these ones. Last time he had gone out at one of these tournaments, he overheard a captain of another team ask his teammates loudly, referring to Pete, “What race is that fag anyway?” while they all laughed and took guesses, using mainly offensive terms. He likes his own team, and they treat him decently, but he doesn’t really give a shit about hanging out with any of the other teams. He has his friends, he isn’t here to socialize, just to play soccer.

Except, he can’t help but feel a little lonely and bored, and he’s fantasizing about Mikey driving to surprise him, when he sends a quick “wish u were hre” and settles in to daydream about what they’d do if Mikey was actually here.

A minute later, his phone starts to buzz, and he beams when he sees _mikeyway_ on the caller ID. “Hey buttercup.” He answers brightly.

“Hey. Are you alone?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah. I’m alone in this sad hotel room that has a weird sad sheep painting staring at me, and I miss you, and I don’t wanna hang out with racist, homophobic jocks.” He complains.

Mikey laughs a little. “Yeah, I don’t blame you.” Then a second later, he adds. “How long are you gonna be alone?” Mikey asks, and Pete thinks that’s sweet of him, but he hadn’t meant to make Mikey worry about him being lonely.

“A few hours probably, but it’s okay.” Pete reassures him.

“Do me a favor?” Mikey asks.

“Anything for you, Mikeyway.” Pete grins, curiosity rising.

“Take off your pants.” Mikey says so casually, and Pete almost chokes in surprise. Oh. _Oh._ Oh, wow.

“Yes, ma’am.” Pete says in a small voice, trying to balance the phone on his shoulder so he doesn’t miss a thing. He’s kind of glad that Mikey can’t see him, cuz he feels like an awkward crab trying to scuttle out of its shell, but he gets his tight jeans off eventually.

“Now what?” He breathes, settling back with his head against the pillow.

“I want you to think about me touching myself. Because I am.” Pete’s stomach drops about six levels and his dick is very quickly catching up. He can hear it in Mikey’s voice, hear the hitches in his breathing, and Pete groans.

“God yes.” He breathes out. “ _Tell me._ Tell me more.” He all but begs, sticking a hand in his boxers.

“I’m thinking about you blowing me. I love when you do that. Your lips stretched around my cock and my hands in your _stupid_ hair.” Mikey says it rushed and breathless. Pete thinks he might actually die if Mikey doesn’t tell him more. He’s fully hard now and god he wishes Mikey was here, but he’s also so into this. He starts stroking himself with a small whine.

“Tell me.” He prompts. _“Please.”_ Mikey moans when Pete says please, and it’s fucking glorious.

“You keep looking up at me, and fuck, _your mouth,_ Pete.” Mikey’s breathing is getting increasingly ragged. “Would you let me fuck your mouth?” Mikey asks, Pete groans, squeezing his dick tighter, moving his hand faster, and it’s not fair, not fair that Mikey gets to be so blunt and fucking filthy and make Pete feel this way all at the same time, god dammit.

“ _Yes._ God, yes, as much as I could stand. I’d let you do anything, _anything._ ” Pete tells him, knowing that it’s true, Mikey’s moans going straight to his dick.

“Fuck. Pete, I want you to fuck me, I want it so badly, I think about it every day.” Mikey tells him, which is news to Pete and he needs to hear more, like, yesterday. _“Fuck fuck fuck, I’m coming.”_ Mikey groans long and loud, cursing several more times, and Pete has a split second image of being inside Mikey, Mikey on top of him, and Pete can’t fucking handle it. He comes and feels like he’s been slapped it hits him so hard, his moan way too loud considering his coach may or may not be next door, but he does not fucking care one bit.

Pete’s body goes a bit limp and he feels so good all over. He can still hear Mikey breathing on the phone, deep, uneven breaths. “Mikeyway. Where have you been hiding phone sex and when the fuck do I get to hear more.” Pete says when he’s regrouped enough to speak.

He hears Mikey laugh lightly. “I guess you just inspired me.”

“You’re gonna kill me, I’m actually just gonna die.” Pete tells him, still feeling flushed all over.

“Not before you fuck me.” Mikey tells him. Pete has to groan again at that. He had not realized quite how badly he also wanted to do just that, but now he might not think about anything else for the next month. “Now clean yourself up before those jocks find you with your hand on your dick, and call me back after.” Mikey hangs up so long before Pete is ready.

Pete lays there for a while feeling shell shocked before he does at Mikey says. He can’t fucking wait to get home. He also needs to remember to ask what Mikey thinks is so stupid about his hair.  
___

Except, it’s not that easy to find places to fuck when you both live with your parents. It’s actually deceptively hard. It’s one thing to get off at parties, or outside, or one time in the soccer office cause he saw Mikey in gym class again and he just couldn’t fucking help it, or rushed in Mikey’s room right after school and before his parents get home, and there seems to always be someone around Pete’s house, damn having two siblings. Because he’s a fucking romantic, he wants it to be nicer than any of that, because Mikey fucking deserves it. Also, because he’s fucking nervous and if he’s thinking about rushing that is not gonna help.

That week he tries to get help from his friends over pizza. “You guys, I need a sex den.” He tells them. Then he clarifies, “But, like, a nice one. Not a gross one. I want Mikey to feel special. And pampered.”

Andy, Joe, and Patrick all stare at him for a moment. He wonders if they are gonna make fun of him. Then Joe just lets out a hmmm and makes his thinking face, and Pete thinks this a good sign.

“Are your parents going out of town anytime soon?” Andy asks.

Pete shakes his head. “My dad, like, all the time, and my mom might go with him for like a weekend, but Hil and Andrew would still be around, probably? I don’t know how I could get them all to leave but not go with them. Maybe spring break…but probably not.” It’s not like he can just convince his family to take a trip and convince them to leave him behind. “And even then, spring break is far.” Seriously, that’s, like, months away, and Pete wants a sex den now.

“Wait, haven’t you guys already had sex, like, a bunch of times? Or were they metaphors when you told us about how his dick feels?” Joe asks, looking confused for a moment. Patrick sighs heavily.

“I mean, yeah, we’ve had sex, but I wanna have sex that is like…a lot. I wanna have a lot of sex with Mikeyway. And I don’t wanna worry about our fucking parents walking in. We can never be naked for more than like ten minutes. I want atmosphere. Yknow?” Pete explains, waving his hands around enthusiastically.

They all make more thinking faces, and Pete is glad he doesn’t have to explain further.

“Are _his_ parents going out of town anytime soon?” Andy asks. Pete shrugs. He doesn’t know.

“I’d ask Travis, probably.” Patrick says after some thought. Pete thinks this is a great idea, and whips out his phone immediately.

“if u were gonna have sex somewhre where wud u go?”

_my room_

“okay but whre else”

_y?_

“i need to have sex w mikeyway. somewhere magical. for a long time. “

_i dunno dude. jus get a hotel_

That doesn’t help because Pete doesn’t have a credit card. “Why doesn’t the universe want me and Mikeyway to have sex?” He asks mournfully, putting his face in his arms on the table.

“Poor Pete.” Patrick rubs his back sympathetically. Pete’s brain dwells on this topic for the rest of the evening, despite the conversation eventually moving on, and he’s no closer to an answer than he was before. He needs to have more friends who have secret places where he can have sex.

He informs them of this, too. “I need more friends who have secret sex places.”

Joe just shrugs, Andy mutters a “Sorry, dude.” Patrick has no more suggestions either.

Luckily, Travis texts him again a few hours later.

 _been thinking about your sex problem_ He starts. Pete vaguely hopes that his friends do not start referring to him having a sex problem too frequently, but whatever.

“and??? plz tell me u got smthng”

_u should ask gabe. his parents have a cabin at Crescent Peak did u kno?_

Pete, in fact, did not know. He’s thrilled. “thx i owe u SO MUCH SEX HELP”

_don’t need sex help u could just tell gabe to let me give him a tattoo_

Pete rolls his eyes. Typical.

Now he just needs to convince Gabe to give him access to his parents cabin, and find a car he can borrow for the 45 minute drive. Maybe the universe is not against him and Mikey afterall.  
___

The next steps are not actually that hard. Or so he thinks.

First, he finds Gabe at school the next day.

He corners Gabe at his locker at the end of the day—but Mikey’s locker is in the same hallway, so Pete drags him into the empty Chemistry Lab. If Mikey comes to his locker and sees them talking he will obviously come over, and Pete wants it to be a surprise.

“Hey Gabe, Travis told me your parents have a cabin and I kind of need it so that I can have sex with Mikeyway and see him naked for a very long time without worrying about being disturbed for once in my fucking life okay cool thanks when can I use it?” Pete blurts out all in a row.

Gabe takes it in stride. “Ah yes, Travis told me about your sex problem.”

Pete not having a sex problem: 0. Pete having a sex problem: 2.

“How romantic.” Gabe teases, crossing his arms and long-ass legs and leaning back against a lab station.

“So?” Pete prompts. Why are all of his friends so bad at getting to the point. He’s too impatient for this.

“Well, you’re in luck, cause they’re going this weekend, but that will probably be the last time in a while. So if you wanna use it next weekend, I can give you my key.” Gabe tells him casually, and Pete throws his fist in the air in victory.

“YES! Thank you!”

“But wait, since I’m such a good friend, wanna do a favor for me?” Gabe asks, holding a hand up as if to contain Pete’s excitement.

“Oh god. What is it. I’m already supposed to work on convincing you to get one of Travis’ tattoos.”

“What!? Dude, not cool. I thought we were friends.” Gabe looks scandalized, but Pete calls bullshit.

“We are you fucking drama queen now just tell me what you want me to do.” Pete crosses his arms. This better not fuck up his plan.

“Vicky took my mixer, like, three weeks ago, after she and Maja had a fight about Vicky’s DJ set not being good or something, and she won’t give it back until she has gotten better, or so she claims. Can you work your overly persistent Pete magic and get it back for me?” Gabe explains.

Pete throws his hands in the air. He wonders how many fucking favors he will have to do in order to have his night of romancing Mikey. It’s obviously still worth it, but it’s getting annoying. “Fine! I will talk to Vicky! But I make no promises and you already said I can use the cabin! Okay!?”

“Yep. You’re a doll.” Gabe grins at him, unfazed by Pete’s rising energy.

Now that there’s more fucking steps to his plan, Pete heads towards the door to get started. Just before he goes through it, he stops and looks back at Gabe. “You know you’re gonna get a tattoo eventually, don’t you?” He asks.

“Obviously. But I made a bet with Vicky that I could put it off until the end of senior year, so that’s what I’m gonna do.” Gabe snickers, and Pete rolls his eyes. Poor Travis.

Second, he takes Vicky out for coffee.

When she arrives at the cafe, she eyes him suspiciously. “This isn’t a secret plan to try and convince me that it’d be a good idea to have a threesome with you and Mikey or something, is it?” She asks as she slides into the seat across from him, where a cappuccino is already waiting for her.

“What!? No, god, you all always think the worst of me, just sit the fuck down.” Pete grumbles. This whole process is starting to make him grumpy.

“Okay, it’s just, like, not normal for you to buy me coffee, that’s all. Maja and I were trying to brainstorm what it’d be about, and that seemed like an option. Cause it’s you.” She tells him nonchalantly, taking a sip of the mug in front of her. “Actually, she thought maybe you were trying to have a threesome with us, but I know you’re better than that.” Pete isn’t sure if he’s supposed to take that as a compliment or not.

“I should just give up now.” Pete groans mournfully, dramatically flopping his head down into his crossed arms.

“Oh god, I’m just _teasing_ you, now what the fuck do you want from me? Also, thanks for the cappuccino.” She says happily, skimming some whipped cream off the top with her finger.

“I needed somewhere to go with Mikey and Travis told me that Gabe’s parents have a cabin but that I should try to convince Gabe to get a tattoo from Travis in exchange for this information, and Gabe is gonna let me use it but then asked that I try to convince you to give back his mixer, so while no one is withholding anything to make me do these things, I still have to at least try or else just be a shit friend, so what do you say?” Pete says it all into the table so it’s probably muffled. He glances up finally, and Vicky’s face is scrunched in confusion.

“Wait, what? Why exactly am I here?” She asks, mug half-raised to her lips.

“Can Gabe have his mixer back?” Pete asks with a sigh.

“Jesus fucking christ he’s so annoying.” She groans immediately, rolling her eyes. “I told him he can have it back after this weekend, but he’s so fucking protective. He wasn’t even using it until the end of the month! Maybe he’s just threatened by me.” Vicky looks out the window thoughtfully as she ponders this.

Pete feels like this whole thing has been a waste. He wonders if Gabe was just fucking with him or just wanted to annoy Vicky or what, but this was clearly not necessary. James and Ricardo come in at that moment, wearing matching hats with little bear ears on top, and Pete gets very distracted for a few minutes. Vicky doesn’t seem to mind, as she’s busy drinking her cappuccino and fuming quietly about Gabe.

“If he’s gonna be so prissy about it maybe I should give them back sooner.” She says eventually, sighing deeply. “So I guess I should go practice more, since according to Maja I ‘maybe just haven’t quite gotten the hang of it yet.’ Fucking Europeans, thinking they’re tactful when they’re actually condescending pricks…” Vicky mutters darkly before draining the rest of her drink.

“Anyway, thanks again, good luck with whatever it is you’re trying to do.” Vicky takes her mug back to the counter and stops back at the table. “Also, you should try harder to convince Gabe about the tattoo. I have a plan, but I’ll take any help I can get winning this bet.” She says with a knowing smile, and then heads for the door. Pete wonders vaguely what the bet is based on, but maybe he should stay out of it until the end of the year. He has other things to focus on.

Pete feels like that’s more or less resolved, so even though it was annoying, he can at least move on to the next step.

Third, he texts Gerard.

“hey g can i borrow your car next friday til sat night? u don’t wanna ask what for”

 _o god what for??_ Gerard texts back almost immediately.

Pete should have expected this. “it involves mikey u dont wanna know”

_why should i do this_

“BECAUSE i promise nothing weird will happen in it” Pete feels like he needs to reassure people of things of this nature more than the average person. Everyone thinks he’s trying to do something weird. It’s not fair.

_ok but why should i_

“JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME”

_ok fine i got a directors cut of halloween for frank but it’s stuck in processing at best buy, the one off exit 27. i need to go pay a fee in person but im too lazy. if you pick it up you can have the car_

Pete is so unsurprised that this anti-social nerd needs this kind of favor. He rolls his eyes, but it’s worth it. It’s actually on the way anyway. “oh my god you fucking nerd. sure whatever ok thnx”

_:)_

Pete is still a little weirded out that Gerard would send him a smiley face, but he got what he wanted, so he isn’t going to question it.

Finally, he just needs to convince Mikey.

As usual, Mikey is several steps ahead of him. He finds Pete on Friday early in the afternoon and drags him to the soccer office. “So, where are we going?” Mikey asks, pushing Pete back against the wall and settling in in front of him.

“Mikeyway, what makes you think we’re going somewhere?” Pete asks fake-innocently. He’s thrilled because he knows this is already a yes.

“Pete.” Mikey says pointedly, pinning Pete’s arms above his head. He moves in and starts kissing Pete’s neck. Pete feels a shiver run up his spine.

“Somewhere we can be alone.” Pete mutters, feeling utterly distracted, trying to keep his breathing normal. Fucking Mikey.

Mikey leans back a little so that he can look at Pete again. “Excellent.” He says, coming back in to kiss Pete hard. Pete clenches his hands against Mikey’s and kisses him back forcefully.

“Wanna be with you without worrying about anyone else, Mikeyway.” Pete tells him when they break apart, really wishing they weren’t in the fucking soccer office right now. “Next Friday, okay? Overnight.” He is glad he doesn’t have to spell out “Gabe’s parents’ cabin” because that’s not exactly the sexiest sounding.

“Can’t wait.” Mikey tells him, his breathing heavy as he presses himself closer against Pete. Pete knows the feeling.  
___

The next week seems to pass so slowly Pete feels like he’s gonna lose it. The whole idea of getting to be alone with Mikey for 24 hours is so intoxicating he can barely focus on anything else.

Then, _finally_ it’s Friday and he’s driving Gerard’s shitty car on the highway and Mikey is in the passenger’s seat next to him putting in a Misfit’s CD. He’s gonna stop and get Gerard’s shit on the way back, because he doesn’t think he can stand dealing with more people or delays. They keep glancing at each other, and at one point Mikey starts rubbing Pete’s thigh and he almost wants to tell him to stop so he doesn’t crash the car, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Pete has to remind himself that it would be wrong to pull over and have sex in Gerard’s car.

Pete magically manages to follow Gabe’s directions without getting lost, and they pull up in front of a small, wooden cabin painted grey just as the sun is going down. The cabin is isolated by tall pine trees, and sits near the edge of a cliff with a valley below. It’s fucking beautiful, and perfect, and Pete feels so triumphant he wants to dance around.

They bring their things inside in one trip and then spend a few minutes exploring. There’s just the main living room, a small kitchen, two small bedrooms, and a bathroom, so there isn’t too much to see. The living room has sliding doors to the outside so they can see into the valley. Pete spots a fireplace and heads straight for it, because it’s kind of fucking cold, putting his once-upon-a-time Boy Scout skills to use as Mikey takes most of their things into the larger bedroom.

Pete is a goddamn sap and he brought all of the mixes Mikey has made him, and told Mikey to bring the ones Pete made for him. He pops the first BritPop mix he made for Mikey into his portable tapedeck, sets it down on the coffeetable, and hits play. Then he spreads himself out on the soft rug in front of the fireplace, and stares at the beams of the ceiling. He wonders if they can just stay here forever. He feels positively serene.

He closes his eyes, not feeling sleepy, just content, and hears Mikey’s soft footsteps re-enter the room a few moments later. It’s funny because Mikey usually wears giant boots that make it impossible to miss his footsteps, but he’s so quiet when he isn’t wearing them. Pete keeps his eyes closed as Mikey walks over and lays next to him on the floor, propped up on his side with an elbow.

He pokes Pete’s side and says, “Do not tell me you are going to fucking sleep right now.” Mikey teases.

Pete opens his eyes, staring up at Mikey, “Would never dream of it.” He tells him, then he quickly sits up and throws a leg over Mikey’s hips, straddling him suddenly. Pete settles in over top of him, his hips pressed against Mikey’s. He pushes his hands under Mikey’s shirt, running his fingers over his soft skin.

He leans down to Mikey’s ear, a wolfish smirk on his face. “Can’t believe you’re here, Mikeyway. Gonna do so many dirty things to you.” Pete tells him, and Mikey groans.

“So what are you waiting for?” Mikey challenges, swallowing thickly.

Pete’s smirk widens and he pushes his hips against Mikey’s, starting to rock against him slowly. Mikey wastes no time in pulling Pete’s shirt over his head, and Pete wonders how quickly he can get Mikey naked because that’s really what he wants right now. He pushes off Mikey’s hoodie and pulls his t-shirt off, carefully navigating Mikey’s glasses because Pete doesn’t want those to go just yet.

Pete relinquishes his place on Mikey’s hips so that he can kiss down Mikey’s chest, his mouth finding Mikey’s nipple and sucking lightly. He keeps alternating between sucking and licking as he undoes Mikey’s pants, until Mikey is squirming underneath him and mutters “fuck.” Then, Mikey gets impatient, and he sits up and pulls his boxers, pants, and socks off together.

Suddenly, Mikey is naked and hard and sitting in front of Pete staring at him. Pete feels his breath catch in his chest, and he forgets what he was doing for a moment.

After he stares at Mikey for a long moment, he remembers that he should be getting out of his own clothes. “Can you—can you touch yourself?” Pete asks, sitting back on his heels, working at the button on his pants.

Mikey smirks at him, and slowly runs his hand down his chest, across his abdomen and to his dick. He never takes his eyes off Pete, making sure Pete is watching his every move. As Mikey starts to touch himself, he groans and his breathing changes, but he just keeps staring at Pete. Pete can’t decide between watching this forever and getting back on top of Mikey like five minutes ago. He feels a bit awkward and ungraceful as he gets the rest of his clothes off, but he doesn’t fucking care he’s so focused on Mikey.

“Fuck, Pete, hurry up. I want _you_ to be touching me.” Mikey tells him, stroking himself more fully now.

Finally pulling his last sock off, Pete all but launches himself forward, knocking Mikey back and kissing him hard. Mikey groans into his mouth and digs his nails into Pete’s back, holding him close and rocking against him.

They make out like that for a while, pushing against each other, and Pete finally reaches up and takes Mikey’s glasses away because they’re starting to fall off anyway. Once he sets Mikey’s glasses aside, he reaches over for his backpack and pulls out a little bag, sitting it near them. Mikey often looks a little lost without his glasses, like his eyes aren’t sure how to focus without them, but this time he’s staring at Pete with the same intensity as before, and it makes Pete shiver. He kisses down Mikey’s chest again, briefly sucking a few marks here and there, and settles himself between Mikey’s legs. He pulls some lube out of the bag, and looks up at Mikey. “You want me to do this?” He asks, biting his lip, feeling a bit nervous but so fucking turned on, seeing Mikey naked and hard before him like this.

Mikey nods quickly. “Fuck yeah.” He says, his hands gripping the rug on either side of him, and letting his legs fall apart. Pete has to swallow hard at that, feeling blood rush through him. Pete squeezes some lube onto his fingers, rubbing them together a bit to warm it up. He goes back to kissing Mikey’s abdomen, moving down to his thighs, propping them up slightly. He starts to suck on the head of Mikey’s dick, slowly and lightly, taking his time. Pete’s fingers trail downwards, pushing the tip of a finger gently inside of Mikey. Mikey inhales sharply and pushes up a little quickly, so Pete has to back off for a second.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry…” Mikey mutters, looking quickly down at Pete. “You okay?” He asks. “So fucking okay.” Pete answers, rubbing Mikey’s thigh soothingly. “Do it again.” Mikey says, and Pete kisses his thigh, biting down as he starts to push into Mikey again. He takes it slow with just one finger, watching Mikey closely, whose hands are scrambling to reach whatever part of Pete he can, mainly his hair and his shoulders. He grips Pete’s shoulders tightly and says “Keep going, fuck, keep going.” Pete licks the underside of Mikey’s dick as he starts to move his hand more purposefully, and he feels Mikey’s body start to get less tense, start to relax into it.

He’s still moving slowly, but a little faster now, and then he pushes deeper and curls his finger and Mikey cries out and jerks suddenly, but in a way that Pete can tell it feels good. He does that a few more times, and Pete then adds a second finger, slowly still so Mikey can adjust, but it doesn’t take long before Mikey is pushing against him, making sounds Pete has never heard before.

He has never felt more turned on in his life, watching Mikey push down on his hand, his body twisting underneath Pete like he can’t get enough. “God, Mikey, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He mutters, kissing Mikey’s abdomen, sucking another mark into his hip. As badly as he wants some friction on his dick, he also feels like he could do this forever.

“Fuck me. Now.” Mikey tells him shortly, to the point as always. “Yeah?” Pete teases, crooking his fingers again so Mikey cries out. “Yes!” Mikey responds. “Fuck, yes.” He groans, reaching for his dick as Pete does it again. Pete moves his hand away though, and Mikey glares at him. “Not yet.” He says, grinning, then slowly slips his fingers out of Mikey, who groans.

Pete reaches to get a condom out of the bag. Mikey sits up and takes it from him, and pushes Pete’s shoulder roughly. “Lay back, lay back.” He says, and Pete is happy to comply. Mikey straddles his thighs, and next thing Pete knows Mikey’s putting the condom on him, taking his time, watching Pete closely. Pete groans as his dick is happy to have any kind of contact, and before he knows it Mikey is slicking him up with more lube. It feels so good to have Mikey touch him, and he pushes up into it, moaning softly.

Then, Mikey moves higher, positioning himself above Pete, his long legs on either side of him. “Wanna start like this?” Mikey asks, and Pete nods quickly, the anticipation rendering him unable to say much. Mikey starts to push downwards and Pete helps guide himself into him, and he groans as Mikey sinks down because it feels _so good,_ warm and tight and amazing.

“Oh god, Mikey, fuck, you feel amazing.” Pete tells him, feeling like he’s babbling, but he can’t help it. He wants to push up so badly, but he waits, feeling the muscles in his thighs tighten. Mikey takes a moment to adjust, breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Pete watches him as Mikey bites his lip and starts to move slowly, and Pete throws his head back, his hips pushing up. Mikey starts a slow, intentional rhythm, and Pete is so tempted to touch Mikey’s dick, but he wants to wait, it’ll be too fast if he does that now. Mikey is biting his lip, sitting up straighter, and Pete groans as Mikey starts to move faster. Mikey throws his head back and moans, his body arcing above Pete’s. Pete’s heels dig into the ground, his hips trying to match Mikey’s, and he starts to worry he’s gonna come way too soon with the way his stomach is starting to tighten already.

“Pete…” Mikey breathes out, getting his attention. “Mmm?” Pete groans, not trusting himself to speak right now. “Can we—I want you—oh, fuck it.” Mikey says, sounding frustrated. He gets off of Pete suddenly, and they both shudder at the rapid change. Mikey starts to lay back again. “You on top, cmon.” Mikey says, pulling Pete’s arm impatiently. Pete nods, another thrill running through his veins.

He positions himself on top of Mikey, lining himself up and slowly pushing back in. Mikey groans and moves his hips down against Pete, making him gasp and push forward. He holds up Mikey’s legs for balance, to get the angle right, and Mikey breathes, “yes.” Pete starts pushing in and out of him, and Mikey is making delicious sounds, his cock leaking on Pete’s stomach. Then, Pete shifts Mikey’s hips up a little higher, and pushes a little harder, and Mikey moans loudly “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He says, and then, _“harder.”_ And Pete can only obey all too quickly, starting to thrust into Mikey hard enough that he shakes with each movement.

“Mikey, just look at you, fuck, fuck…” Pete breathes, so lost in the sensation that’s consuming him. Mikey grabs his face and pulls Pete in to kiss him. He groans louder than Pete’s ever heard as he finds the right angle, and he starts to hit the same spot over and over as best as he can until Mikey is writhing.

“Can I come now?” Mikey suddenly looks up at him and asks, sounding so breathless. Pete nods, feeling like he isn’t going to last much longer, but fuck if he’s gonna come before he can feel Mikey come undone around him. Pete leans back and gets a better grip again, and Mikey starts to touch himself, and Pete watches as long as he can but then Mikey is coming, tightening around him and crying out, and it feels so good that Pete feels like he gets lost. He fucks Mikey through it, and just as Mikey finishes, Pete comes, releasing a sound he’d normally be embarrassed about and feeling like he’s been hit by a truck and almost falling over. Mikey holds him there until Pete is done, like he doesn’t want to let him go.

He stays slumped there for a moment over Mikey, his chest heaving, and Mikey kisses him again. Pete slides out carefully, and Mikey makes a groan that almost sounds like disappointment. Pete gets rid of the condom as Mikey relaxes back, his eyes closing, breathing heavily.

He’s fucking smiling, and Pete wants to remember this forever, Mikey naked and smiling after Pete just fucked him, his own cum on his stomach, his pale body blooming with little marks.

They kiss long and slow and lazy, still touching each other all over. “God, that was hot.” Mikey says eventually, his smile back. Pete nods in agreement. “Fuck, Mikey, you’re fucking incredible, you sound incredible.” Pete tells him, kissing along Mikey’s neck, pressing his tongue against some of the bruises he left there.

Eventually, they come back to themselves enough to feel gross, and decide to get up and clean themselves off. They take a quick shower which becomes a longer shower when Pete notices that Mikey is hard again, and he takes his time to whisper all of his dirty thoughts from fucking Mikey as he jacks him off in the shower. Eventually they leave the bathroom, more or less clean.

In the bedroom, Pete pulls on his Guns N’ Roses hoodie and boxers, and goes into the living room to see Mikey laying on the rug in front of the fire again. He’s wearing black briefs and a slightly baggy, long-sleeved olive green shirt, and Pete wants to fuck him again he looks so good. They still have plenty of time though, there’s no rush.

Pete grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and goes to lay next to Mikey, who opens his eyes and smiles sleepily. He looks so satisfied as Pete leans over to kiss him and stroke his face. Pete rests his head on Mikey’s chest, who closes his eyes.

They stay quiet for a while, the fire crackling in the background, Pete still stroking his face and hair. “What are you thinking about, Mikeyway?” He asks quietly.

“Do you—do you remember that time, uh…” Mikey starts and then trails off awkwardly, and Pete is alert again and has to know what’s coming.

“What?” He prompts, lifting his head off of Mikey’s chest.

“Remember that first time we were at Travis’s and I kind of ran away when you told me you weren’t just trying to sleep with me?” Mikey summarizes, and Pete gets why he’s being so awkward, because there’s really no delicate way to revisit that situation.

“Uh. Yeah. Hard to forget.” He teases, wondering what in the world would make Mikey bring that up now. He hopes there’s a good reason but a paranoid part of him is kind of scared.

“I don’t think I ever really told you the whole reason why I did that. And I feel like I should.” Mikey says seriously.

“Okay.” He says, nodding and trying to keep himself from getting more nervous.

“I know it’s—I know it’s fucked up, and it wasn’t exactly what I meant to do, but I think I was testing you.” Mikey opens his eyes finally and looks up at Pete. “I’m sorry.” He says. Pete wonders if Mikey has been feeling guilty about this for a while.

“You were just so _sure_ right away, and all of the things you were doing were so nice that I felt like…like it couldn’t be real, or something. No one had really paid so much attention to me like that before.” Mikey explains, looking kind of uncomfortable. Pete doesn’t understand how this is true, since he’s been obsessed with Mikey since the moment he saw him, but he doesn’t interrupt. “I was worried that if I got used to it, it would stop suddenly and I’d feel like a fool. So I tried to give you an easy out, just in case.”

Pete finds himself not that surprised. He knows Mikey so much better now. “You could have just asked, you know.” Pete teases. He knows it’s not actually that simple.

“Yeah, but I didn’t know that. And I didn’t know how to do that.” Mikey tells him. “When you told me that you meant it, it almost made it, like…scarier. Like, I wasn’t prepared to get what I wanted.” Mikey finishes, shrugging, but his face looks a little tight and concerned.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.” Pete thinks back to his own freak out, how it’s one thing to expect things to not work out, and entirely different when they actually do.

“Are you upset?” Mikey asks hesitantly.

That hadn’t really even occurred to Pete. “Course not.” He responds instantly, and Mikey relaxes again. “It’s weird, because now I feel kind of glad that that happened. Or like, the way everything went, I wouldn’t change any of it.” Pete tells him, feeling a flutter in his chest.

Mikey rolls his eyes and Pete snickers. “So fucking cheesey.” He complains, but Pete can tell he’s pleased.

“That’s why you love me.” Pete sings, pulling the blanket up around Mikey and snuggling in close to him again.

“Yeah.” Mikey concedes, his smile pulling off to the side like usual.

Pete rests his head on Mikey’s chest again and listens to the fire crackling and Mikey’s heartbeat. He starts fantasizing about living like this full time one day, the world quiet enough that his anxiety is quiet, too, and the two of them not having to sneak around in the nighttime.  
___

Pete wakes up slowly the next morning. He keeps his eyes closed for a while, feeling content and sleepy and well-rested. Then he reaches out for Mikey, but he can’t find him, so eventually he has to open his eyes. Mikey is nowhere to be seen.

Pete frowns, wondering where he could have gone. It’s very unlike Mikey to get up before Pete.

Still feeling sleepy and out of it, Pete sits there for a while rubbing his eyes and yawning. Eventually he realizes that he can smell something sweet in the air, and there’s clattering sounds coming from the kitchen. Curiosity finally spurring him into action, Pete crawls out of bed reluctantly. He had been looking forward to cuddling Mikey all morning, but now he has to go find him.

He walks stiffly towards the kitchen, suppressing another yawn. He stops in the doorway and leans against the doorframe. Mikey is across the small room, his back towards Pete. He’s standing over a frying pan, spatula in hand. He’s still wearing the same outfit, long-sleeve shirt and black briefs, so his legs are bare. Pete watches his skinny ass for a moment, biting down on his bottom lip as some of the memories from yesterday come back to him.

Feeling a lot more awake now, Pete starts across the room, saying a soft “hey” so that Mikey won’t be startled as Pete comes up behind him. Mikey looks over his shoulder briefly, and Pete settles in against his back, his arms going around Mikey’s waist. Mikey makes a pleased sound and leans back into him, tilting his head to the side as Pete kisses his neck.

“Good morning.” Pete whispers into his ear, and he can see the goosebumps rise on the back of Mikey’s neck.

“Morning.” Mikey murmurs back to him, resting his head against Pete’s.

“What time is it?” Pete asks, realizing he has no idea.

“Almost ten-thirty. Can’t believe how long you slept.” Mikey tells him. Pete can’t either, especially somewhere that he’s never slept before.

“Mm me neither. Whatcha making?” Pete asks, trying and failing to peer over Mikey’s shoulder.

“Your favorite.” Mikey says, his voice hitching up a bit as Pete bites his neck lightly.

Pete pokes his head around to the side since going over Mikey isn’t working. He sees three small round pancakes in the pan that Mikey is standing over. “You shit.” Pete giggles, turning Mikey around and pressing him against the cupboard next to the stove.

Mikey is laughing at him, spatula still in hand. “They’re gonna be good, okay?” He insists, raising a brow as if challenging Pete to complain about the breakfast he’s making. “Also, there’s homefries in the oven and eggs in the other pan.” He says casually, looking away from Pete like he’s embarrassed.

“All this for me, Mikeyway?” He asks, and normally he’d be teasing but he feels strangely touched.

Mikey just smiles, leans in, and kisses him. He tastes like syrup and Pete has no complaints.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you whoever you are for reading this thing I created. I would LOVE comments, like, more than anything.
> 
> I may one day write more of this, but next I'm hoping to write some fantasy. 
> 
> <3


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